


Adventures in Human Sitting

by FantasiaWandering



Series: Under Shield [5]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Big Brother Papyrus, Big Brother Sans, Family, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Goat Mom Is Best Mom, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:03:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5201735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasiaWandering/pseuds/FantasiaWandering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The advantage of having such a huge adoptive family is that you're never lacking a place to stay. But sometimes the learning curve on "how to care for your tiny human" can be a little steep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homework

**Author's Note:**

> A series of fun little side stories demanding to be written while I work out some of the details on the big one. Ashashi-corner asked for the seeds at the heart of this particular story, but like most of what I write, it took on a bit of a life of its own. Takes place when Frisk is about nine.

“If train A leaves the station travelling at 50 kilometres per hour, and train B leaves a station two hundred miles away travelling at 25 kilometres per hour, when will the two trains pass each other?” Artie blinks at the question and lets out a low groan, pushing the textbook away with one foot as they flop back on the carpet. You don’t try to catch them this time. The carpet in your bedroom at your brothers’ house is thick and soft enough, with its cheerful pattern of tiny white dogs chasing bones around a blue background, that it absorbs most of the impact from Artie’s fall. “I hate human textbooks. Why are they all so boring?”

You pull the textbook closer and frown at the question. “I don’t know. I don’t remember them being this bad. And they don’t tell us enough to answer the question. Is Sans on either of those trains? It’ll be late if he is. That always happens. Except when he’s early.”

The floor shakes as a loud banging echoes through the house, and you lunge to catch the pet rock before it topples from your nightstand. You’re pretty sure that was Sans’ sole contribution to your decor, but he made sure you knew it was there, in case you ever got lonely.

Artie looks up from their sprawl on the rug as you put the rock back more securely on the nightstand. “What was that?”

“Dunno. Undyne’s over, so it’s either a cooking lesson, or the three of them are fighting over dish duty again--” Your eyes widen as you feel something skip just behind your breastbone, and you throw yourself on top of your friend, pinning them to the ground. Before they can protest, a blue bone shoots up through the floor, phasing through you as it rockets skyward and passes through the roof. “Okay, definitely dishes. Sorry for squashing you.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Artie says. You push yourself off of them, but don’t bother offering to help them up.They’re perfectly capable of doing it themself, and offering to help with something so little just makes them insulted. They roll back to a sitting position far more easily than you do, and reach out with a foot to close the textbook. “Want to switch to science?”

You brighten at that. Science is a lot more fun than math, and the school board is a lot less insistent that you learn human ways of doing it. “Sure! It’s gravity, right?” You bounce to your feet, grinning. “I think we should do an experiment. Outside.”

Artie grins and stands as well, giving you an affectionate headbump on your shoulder. “Great idea. There’s a ton of snow out there just waiting for an experiment. Hang on, just let me get my arms.”

Artie bounds over to the corner of your room to where a tangled pile of metal waits, and kicks it toward the carpet, nudging it into place with their feet until two long metal arms stretch out from either side of the sturdy back brace. Moving to stand in front of it, Artie twitches their tail out of the way and falls backward onto it with an ease born of long practice. As soon as they thump into it, the arms twitch to life, and they reach out to fasten the chest straps and lock the arm rig into place. Well, the right arm does. The left arm is twisted at a funny angle and just flops a couple of times, and Artie rolls their eyes. “Hey, can you help?”

Shaking your head, you grab Artie’s left hand and give it a good, strong yank. With a squeak of protest, the arm snaps back into proper alignment, and after a few jerky stutters, begins to swing at Artie’s side. “You know,” you point out as Artie picks up their backpack and opens your door. “Alphys might be right about you being too hard on your arms.”

Artie just looks at you. “Frisk, they’re made of _metal_ ,” they explain, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Metal is _tough_. Now come on, before the snow melts.”

“It’s February. I don’t think it’s going anywhere.” But they’re already running down the stairs, and you hurry to keep up.

At the bottom of the landing, you have to dodge quickly as Undyne and Papyrus roll past. Papyrus is putting up a good fight, but Undyne clearly has the upper hand. “Admit it, Papyrus! The noogie of friendship trumps all other attacks of amiability!”

“NEVER! IT’S NOT NEARLY AS ENTERTAINING AS THE TICKLE FIGHT OF CORDIAL AFFECTION -- OW -- AND IT HURTS A LOT MORE!”

“Of course it hurts! That’s how you know I care! You are filled with the burning passion of my attachment!”

“I AM FILLED WITH A HEADACHE!”

Sidestepping the two adults -- well, more or less -- currently locked in affectionate combat on your floor, you grab your boots and lean against the couch to pull them on. Sans glances at you from where he’s slouched to watch the tussle, and he tilts his head as he notices the boots. “ **hey, kiddo. going somewhere?** ”

“Science experiment,” you answer, struggling with your second boot. “Who won the dish fight?”

“ **dunno.”** He scratches his head nonchalantly. **“it might have gotten abandoned when i sorta suggested that a true friend would do the dishes. then those two got into a fight about who was the better friend, and wouldn’t let the other into the kitchen.** ”

You straighten from your quarrel with your boots and stuff your arms into your coat, pulling your mittens on as you go. But when you turn to make a break for the door, Sans is blocking your path, holding the scarf Undyne made for your birthday in his hands. “ **whoa, slow down there, buddy. if we let you catch a chill, tori’s going to give us the cold shoulder**.”

You snicker at the joke, dancing from foot to foot as your mittened hands fumble for your zipper. Sans bats your hands away and zips you up securely before he tugs the furry hood over your hair.

“Okay, I’m good!” You dart past him, but you don’t get far before the birthday scarf lassoes you and drags you back. “Aw, come on, Sans!”

“ **welp. someone’s squirrely today**.” Sans starts wrapping the incredibly long scarf around your head. He’s got a while to go, since it's about twice as long as Undyne is tall.

“You mean ‘cause I’m a little nuts?” you ask innocently.

Sans gives a quiet snort of amusement and pats you proudly on the head. “ **heh. good one, kid.** ” Giving the scarf a ninth and final wrap, he knots it securely at your throat. Most of your face is covered and just your eyes are peeking out over the pink and blue yarn, but at least you’re nice and warm.

“Are you done yet?” Artie calls impatiently from the door. “Science is waiting!”

Sans shoves his hands back in his pockets and gives you a curious look. “ **what kind of science are you doing, anyway?** ”

“Gravity,” you answer with a grin, and wink at him before you run for the door.

“UNDYNE, STOP BITING ME, YOU ARE GOING TO BREAK YOUR TEETH AGAIN AND-- HEY!” Papyrus struggles to free himself from Undyne’s chokehold. “WAIT! I, PAPYRUS, BABYSITTER EXTRAORDINAIRE, WAS NOT CONSULTED ABOUT THIS FIELD TRIP! FRISK, WHAT WOULD TORIEL SAY?”

“It’s educational, Papyrus,” you call as you pull open the door. “We’re doing science!”

And you’re free. Laughing, you chase after Artie, leaping down the porch steps and tumbling into the drifting snow. Artie faceplants almost instantly. They figured out how to use their arms for typing in a matter of hours, but they still haven’t quite gotten the hang of catching themself when they fall. But the snow is deep and soft, and they’re up again in a minute, giggling as they run ahead of you.

The street is largely empty, which works just as well for you. No cars to mess up the nice snow that fell last night. At first, when the skeletons moved into the friendly house at the end of the lane and Undyne and Alphys claimed a house at the top of the street, nobody else wanted to live there. But slowly, over the last year, human families with kids started moving into the empty houses. They’re still a little wary around the monsters, but more and more of the kids have started playing with you and Artie on the weekends. They’re still in human schools, though, which means you and Artie have the street to yourselves for a while.

“So what are we supposed to be investigating again?” Artie calls over their shoulder.

“If things made of different stuff falls at the same speed,” you answer, skidding to a halt next to them at the entrance to the little park halfway down the street. The trees all dropped their leaves ages ago, and the low, strong limbs, perfect for climbing, seem to beckon to you. An idea hits you, and with small gasp, you plunge your hand into the snow and pull out a small, round stone from the decorative landscaping. “I know how we can test it! Quick, make a snowball that looks like this rock!”

You’ve been friends with Artie long enough that they already know where your idea is going, and if there’s one thing Artie loves their robot arms for more than typing, it’s climbing. They don’t need convincing. It takes just a minute for them to pack a snowball with their feet, and they bend over and grab it in their mouth to free up their hands for the trees.

A second later, Artie cries out, their words muffled a bit by the snowball. “Ack! Brai’ freeze!”

“Here, switch.” You grab the snowball out of their mouth and stick the rock in its place.

“Be’hr. Tha’s Friss!”

Together, you help each other scale the biggest tree until you’re sitting on a broad, sturdy branch with a clean drop below you. There was a lot of discussion on your way up the tree about the best way to conduct your experiment, and you’re both watching the snowball and the rock intently as you line up your hands, making sure both projectiles are at exactly the same level.

“Okay, ready?” You inch closer, pressing your arm against Artie’s so their sensors can feel exactly when you let go. “Three… two… one… NOW!”

Holding your breath, you watch the experiment unfold, your snowball and rock dropping together and picking up speed as they plummet toward the ground -- just as Undyne wanders past, clearly looking for you.

“Hey, punk, where are you--”

“--Undyne, no, LOOK OUT!!”

Your warning piles on top of her words, but it’s too late. The echo of the rock cracking against her head echoes throughout the little park. You and Artie stare down in horrified silence at her as she stands motionless until, very slowly, she tilts her head back.

“Did you,” she begins, deep and ominous. “Just drop. A ROCK on me?”

Artie hides their face against your shoulder, and you bite your lip, unsure of what to say. Slowly, you tug the scarf away from your mouth. “I’m so sorry, Undyne.”

“You should be,” she growls, and picks up the rock. “This… this… is INEXCUSABLE!”  With a flex of her hand, the rock crumbles to dust. “WHERE IS THE PASSION? WHERE IS THE ENERGY? THAT IS NOT HOW YOU HIT SOMEONE WITH A PROJECTILE, FRISK!”

She stoops, gathering an armful of snow, and crushes it into a snowball as big as Artie. “This is how you hit someone with a projectile! NGAAAH!”

You and Artie are both screaming, and you cling to each other for dear life as the snowboulder hurtles toward you. It smacks into you a second later, hurling you from the branch in a shower of ice and snow. You scream all the way down until you hit the snow, and the fluffy white drift swallows you whole.

“UNDYNE, HAVE YOU SEEN… WAIT. WAS THAT MY HUMAN?”

“Don’t worry, Papyrus, I’ve got this covered. I’m helping them science.  I’m a teacher, yanno.”

“YOU’RE A GYM TEACHER!”

“AND YOU’RE AN ASSISTANT GYM TEACHER! SO ASSIST ME!”

You struggle from the snowdrift, coughing and sputtering, and grab Artie’s ankle to pull them up after you. Once both of you are mostly free of the snow, you look at each other, and collapse against each other in a fit of giggles.

“So which one of us hit the ground first?” you ask Undyne through your laughter.

Undyne rolls her eyes at you. “Pssh. Like I was paying attention to that.”

“Well, we’ll just have to do it again.” You smile as Papyrus tugs you the rest of the way free of the drift, and you throw your arms around him, clinging tightly so that you can kiss his cheekbone.

He blushes a little, giving a quiet “NYEH-HEH,” and brushes the snow from your jacket before looking hopefully at Undyne. “DO YOU THINK THAT’S ENOUGH SCIENCE? HOW ABOUT SOME NICE HOME ECONOMICS INSTEAD?”

“Uhhh, I don’t think so.” Undyne folds her arms. “The whole point of Science is proving things are repeatable, right? So they have to repeat the experiment until they get a statistically significant conclusion.” A second later, she realizes you’re all staring at her, and her brows draw together. “What??? I DO LISTEN TO ALPHYS, YOU KNOW!”

“ **oh, here’s where you went.** ” Sans ambles up behind Undyne, his hands in his pockets. “ **what’d i miss?** ”

“Science!” Undyne strikes a pose.

Artie finally manages to clear all of the snow out of their eyes, and blinks up at Undyne. “Yo, Teach, aren’t you cold?”

With a glance down at her bare arms, Undyne scoffs. “Come on, I’m too tough for cold. Snow takes one look at me and melts in terror.”

“I can attest to that!” calls the little snowman at the far end of the park, and you wave at it from your perch on Papyrus’ hip.

Undyne just grins. “See?” Whirling, her hands on her hips, she looks at you in much the same way that the Dogs look at a stick, and you cling a little more tightly to Papyrus. “Now, seems to me the problem is you’re not _in_ the experiment enough. What is it that Toriel’s always yammering on about during staff meetings?”

“PROMPT MARKING?”

“No.”

“NOT SLIMING THE CHILDREN?”

“NO! Come ON, Papyrus!”

“ **yeah, bro, throw her a bone**.”

“EXPERIENTIAL LEARNING?” Papyrus offers, glaring at Sans.

“Yeah, that thing!” Undyne crows. “You gotta EXPERIENCE the experiment, punk! Here, check this out.”

She reaches forward and plucks you out of Papyrus’ arms. Before anyone has a chance to realize what she’s planning, she’s already hauled her arm back. You can feel her muscles coiling like steel beneath you, and in another instant, you’re airborne, hurtling toward the clouds. Over the fading shouts of the skeletons below you, you can just make out Undyne’s words.

“WHAT??? KIDS BOUNCE, RIGHT?”

 _Fundamental rule of gravity. What goes up, must come down._ The thought is reassuring as you hurtle onward toward the sky. You draw a deep breath as you begin to slow, arcing gently over the park. It’s so quiet up here, and the air is crisp and cold. Spreading your arms, you take a moment to look down at the trees below you, and the houses curling around the lane. From up here, you can just make out the big house on the hill in the distance. It’s funny -- that house may be where you live most of the time, but it never feels weird to stay with Sans and Papyrus, or Dad, or even Alphys and Undyne. You don’t have a bedroom at Alphys and Undyne’s though -- any time you stay over, they declare it a slumber party and you camp out in the living room in sleeping bags, so there was never much of a point.

You have a big house on the hill, and it’s home. But you have a bunch of little homes too, and each one has its own thing that makes it special. From here, you can see them all.

It fills you with determination.

For one brief, glorious moment, you hang in the air, neither rising nor falling. Weightless. Your laugh rings out, bouncing off the clouds above you. Then, you’re moving down again, falling faster and faster as you barrel toward the trees. As you near the tops of the branches, you tuck your knees against your chest, and you can make out the voices below you again.

“--AAAAH! CURSED TREES! WHERE IS--”

“ **\--left, bro. left!** ”

“--way you guys are carrying on you’d think they were made out of GLASS or something--”

The air around you erupts in a spray of snow and ice, and it glitters like diamonds in the sun. Slowly, the shimmering curtain falls, and as the air clears, you find yourself caught between two pairs of bony arms. A great, long skid leads across the park toward the snowdrift that half-buries you. After a long, frozen moment, the skeletons begin to pull themselves free, shaking off the ice, and you end up the focus of two surprisingly intense gazes for a pair of brothers who don’t have eyes. Unable to help yourself, you laugh and clap your hands. “Let’s do it again!”

With twin sighs of relief, Sans and Papyrus sag toward each other, trapping you snugly between them.

“ **i don’t think so, kiddo. that’s enough science for one day. how ‘bout a nice nap instead?** ”

“FOR ONCE, I AGREE WITH SANS.”

“Yo, Frisk!” Artie bounds over the drifts toward you, trailing Undyne in their wake. “That was AMAZING!” Dancing in place, they look entreatingly up at Undyne. “Can I try?”

“Sure, runt, why not?” Undyne grabs Artie’s head, lifting them off the ground.

“Sweet!” Artie raises a robotic hand to punch the release button on their chest straps. With a soft whir, the arms go limp and fall to the ground. “Fire away, Teach!”

“PERHAPS YOU OUGHT TO RECONSIDER,” Papyrus interjects uneasily. “WHILE THROWING CHILDREN IS UNQUESTIONABLY AMUSING, THE AMOUNT OF AMUSEMENT WE WILL HAVE IF THE QUEEN FINDS OUT IS, I SUSPECT, NOT VERY MUCH. AT ALL. CONSIDERING THAT WE WILL BE DEAD.”

“Or on fire,” Artie points out helpfully. “Remember when those angry humans came to the school waving signs and she set them on fire? That was so awesome!”

You glance up as a shadow falls over you, and a huge smile crosses your face. “Hi, Mom!”

Papyrus lets out a little screech, and there’s some amount of jostling as the skeletons both try to make sure that you’re between them and Toriel. She’s giving her Headmistress Look, but there’s no fire. Yet. Both of her hands are holding tightly to the handle of the large picnic basket she’s carrying.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks sweetly.

“Yo, Mrs. Dreemurr! We’re doing science!” Artie calls.

Toriel raises a brow. “So I see.”

Without a word, Undyne slowly puts Artie back down in the snow and lets go of their head.

Your mother continues as though she hadn’t noticed. “Artemisia, I have been meaning to speak with you about your Science homework lately. Have you been getting help from a grown-up?”

Artie looks down, scuffing the snow with a toe. “Yes, ma’am. From Alphys.”

“Oh, good!” Beaming, Toriel pats Artie on the head. “You have been working so hard on sharing and cooperating, I was concerned that you weren’t paying enough attention to asking for help. Well done.”

You grin even harder as Artie’s face brightens with pride. One of the things the humans whose kids are at the school still don’t quite get is the importance that monsters place on asking for help and supporting each other when you get into trouble, so it’s a pretty big part of the report card.

Shifting the basket to one hand, Toriel picks up Artie’s arms, shaking the snow off before holding them out. “Now I think you had best run along home. It is nearly time for dinner.”

Artie backs into their arms and locks them into place before turning to wave at you. “Later, Frisk. Good homeworking today, dude!”

From your little nest of skeleton arms, you wave back. Toriel watches until she’s satisfied that Artie is safely on their way home, and then turns back to you and your science assistants.

“Undyne?”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Go home.”

“Yes ma’am!” As meek as she ever gets -- which is still not very -- Undyne gives you a friendly punch in the arm and flashes you a grin full of sharp teeth. “Later, punk! Training bright and early tomorrow! We’re going to practice throwing rocks!”

You groan, but Toriel isn’t done yet. As Undyne leaps the fence around the park and runs down the street, Toriel gives the three of you The Look, and the brothers inch even further behind you. “Now then. Shall we get my child out of the snow?”

You know it’s serious. There aren’t even any puns as Sans and Papyrus mutter apologies and free themselves from the snowbank. With a skeleton holding either hand, you follow Toriel back to the house in silence until you can’t take it any more. You let your steps slow until the brothers are practically dragging you, waiting until they turn their heads to see what’s wrong. As soon as they do, you rush forward, and you’ve done this so many times that they don’t even need to think about what comes next. You let out a squeak, trying to hold in your laughter as your feet leave the ground, and your scarf slips down as you swing between the brothers until it can’t hide your smile any more. By that time, Mom is smiling too, and she shakes her head with a sigh. But the scary mood stays broken, and your trip back home is measured in swings and laughter.

“NOT THAT IT ISN’T A DELIGHT TO SEE YOU, YOUR QUEENLINESS,” Papyrus says as they struggle together to free you from your winter clothing. “BUT WE WEREN’T EXPECTING YOU HERE SO SOON. HAS YOUR TRIP BEEN CANCELLED?”

“Sadly, no -- oh, look, there is my little popsicle!” Toriel bumps her nose against yours as she gets the last loop of your scarf off. “But we had a little time before the car arrives, and I thought that a pie would be nice for you to have with dinner tonight.”

Now that the scarf isn’t covering your nose, the smells of apples and cinnamon curl around you like a warm, fuzzy blanket. You wiggle happily as Sans tugs your coat over your head, not bothering to undo the zipper.

“OH.” Papyrus picks up the basket and peers dubiously inside. “UM. THIS IS A VERY THOUGHTFUL SWEET QUICHE WITH NO EGGS, YOUR MAJESTY.”

“ **hey. hey tori. what did the apple say to the orange?** ”

“I find you very a-peel-ing!”

Sans and Toriel break into gales of laughter so strong they can barely manage getting you out of your boots. With a strangled sound, Papyrus rises to his feet and storms toward the kitchen. “YOU REALLY, REALLY SHOULDN’T HAVE.”

Wiping a tear from her eye, Toriel reins in her laughter and kneels in front of you, resting her hands against your shoulders. “Just between us,” she whispers, “I also wanted to hug you again before I go.”

The reminder stings a little, and the smile slips from your face. Frowning, Toriel cups your cheek in her hand, her fur soft against your chilled skin. “Oh, my child, no need for that. I will be back before you know it.”

Your breath leaves you in a rush as memory slams into you, unbidden. Warm brown eyes framed by dark hair. A familiar, distantly beloved face smiling at you. A gentle touch against your hair.  “ _Oh, Katie, don’t cry. We’ll be back before you know it.”_

“Frisk? My child, what--?”

You throw yourself at your mother, wrapping your arms around her neck and clinging for dear life. Her arms are around you at once, wreathing you in the scent of cinnamon and spices, her warmth sinking deep through your sweater to fight the chill that settled into your heart. You feel her move, and look up to see her exchange an understanding look with Sans. Sighing, she pulls you into her lap and strokes your hair as she rocks you.

“Frisk, did I not promise you that I will care for you for as long as you have need of me? I will be back, sweet child. Have no fear. You will have a lovely time with these nice boys for a few days, and then I will be back.”

“Dad too?” you murmur quietly against her shoulder.

“Yes. Asgore as well.” She nuzzles your hair gently. “Would you like to stay with him for a while when we return?”

You nod, your hands clinging fast to her pretty purple blouse. You don’t want to let go.

Behind you comes Papyrus’ best attempt at a whisper. “SANS, WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO FRISK? AND HOW DO WE FIX IT?”

“ **shhh. just let tori do the mom thing for a minute.** ”

“BUT I WANT TO HELP TOO! ISN’T AN AWESOME COOL FRIEND ENOUGH TO CHEER UP A TINY HUMAN?”

“ **you’re the coolest, bro, but tori’s already got some mom-entum.** ”

There’s a pause, followed by a strangled squeak as Papyrus swallows his retort, and you can’t help yourself. Even though you’re upset, a giggle works it’s way free, and Toriel’s soft laughter just encourages yours.  The laughter chases away your fear, and after one last, long hug for good measure, you let go and take a step back.

“There, now. That is better.” Toriel rises to her feet, brushing the creases from her skirt. “No more tears, my child, or you shall make me cry, too.”

“ **don’t worry, tori. we’ll take good care of the kid.”**

“I know you will. And Frisk?” Toriel winks at you. “I am trusting you to keep these two out of trouble. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, wrapping one of your arms around Papyrus’s knee. The weight of his hand settles on your head, and you’re almost reassured. Almost. You reach out with the other hand, wiggling your fingers until Sans takes hold of it. Toriel gives you a proud smile.

“Be good, my child. I will see you soon.”

She sends the first text not two minutes after the door closes behind her. As Papyrus heads to the kitchen to start wrestling your dinner into submission, you plonk yourself down on the floor to read your phone. Sans plops down behind you a moment later, and you lean back against him as you read, his arms around your waist and his chin in his favourite spot on top of your head.

To the familiar sounds of Papyrus yelling challenges at the tomatoes, you scroll through the incoming texts. Sans snickers quietly as he reads over your shoulder, and you breathe a long, comforted sigh.

* * *

 

> Dear Frisk,
> 
> Hello! I hope you are staying out of trouble. The car that is to take us to the airplane is very large. They say I should not use my phone when we are on the airplane, but I will send you a picture when we land.
> 
> Be good!
> 
> Love,
> 
> Mom    ] :   )
> 
>  

* * *

> PS. I put some clean underwear in the picnic basket under the pie. Just in case. You can never have enough clean underwear. In case of accidents.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Mom    ] :   )

* * *

>  PPS. Do not have accidents. Stay in one piece.

> Love,
> 
> Mom    ] :   )

* * *

>  PPPS. Asgore is here too. He says to say hello.

> HELLO!
> 
> Asgore, do not use all capitals. Alphys says that means you are shouting. It is very rude. Unless you are Papyrus; that is just his way.
> 
> OH. SORRY! HOW’S THIS?
> 
> Asgore, no.
> 
> HOW DO YOU TURN THIS OFSNGTHSGFSN

* * *

> Dear Frisk,

> Here is a picture of a small dog.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Mom    ] :   )
> 
> _[attached is a photo of an extreme close up of a wet brown nose]_

* * *

 “HEY!” Papyrus calls from the kitchen. “THIS EGGLESS QUICHE COMES WITH SUPERHERO PANTS! THAT ALMOST MAKES UP FOR THE LACK OF EGG!”

“ **oh, would you lookit that, you change colour. red’s a good look for you, kiddo.** ”

Giving a quiet, dismayed squeak, you bury your burning face against Sans’ shoulder. He laughs, but there’s no malice in it, and he reaches back to snag a blanket from the couch and wrap it around you both. Safely cocooned in the blanket and in Sans’ hug, you let yourself get lost in the soft, sweet comfort of the feeling of _home._

 

* * *

_ _

"[Kids bounce, right?](http://hamstermastersamster.tumblr.com/post/134225203385/kids-bounce-right-undyne-no-quick-inkadoodle)" by hamstermastersamster

 

 

 


	2. Birthday Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working on the next real installment, but this is a silly little extension of a tumblr post inspired by dawntreaderflynne, who showed me a picture of the cake in question with the comment: "Also i know this is supposed to be edgy and scary but now that everything is Undertale, all i’m thinking is Skelebro Birthday Party." And... this happened. Thanks, Flynne!

  

Sans and Papyrus really do go all out on the party preparation. Well, Papyrus does. Sans' sole contribution to the event is putting on a clean shirt. This one has a picture of a small goat on it, with the caption "check out my goat tee" underneath. Toriel snorted tea up her nose the first time he showed up at your house wearing it. 

Everything seems to be going well, even with the jittery human children, until Papyrus unveils his masterpiece. Though you and the monster kids are jumping up and down, clapping your hands and shrieking with glee, the reaction from the other children isn't quite the same kind of shrieking.

  

As you tuck into your slice, you can hear the exchange between your brothers on the other side of the room.

“SANS! SANS, WHY AREN’T THE HUMANS EATING THE BIRTHDAY CAKE? WHY IS THAT ONE UNDER THE TABLE IN THE CORNER? HUMAN! HUMAN COME AND SEE THE— WHY ARE THEY RUNNING?”

“ **i dunno, bro. guess they can’t *rise* to the occasion.”**

“WHY DON’T THEY LIKE IT? COME ON, IT’S REALLY COOL! LOOK AT ALL THOSE HAPPY, GRINNING SKULLS I PAINTED! THEY ARE AMUSING AND WHIMSICAL!”

“ **’course it’s cool. these kids are really treading on thin icing.** ”

“WHA– SANS, STOP THAT! THIS IS NO TIME FOR JAPING, THIS IS SERIOUS! THAT’S FRENCH VANILLA THEY’RE SPURNING!”

“ **how will they ever gateau-ver it?** ”

"AAAAHHH!"

By this point, you're laughing so hard that you inhale half your mouthful of cake, but even as you double over from coughing, it's still delicious.

" **whoa, hold up, papyrus. the kid's trying to breathe cake**."

"WHAT??? THAT IS VERY INEFFICIENT!"

Two pairs of hands thump you on the back until your giggles are unhindered by baked goods once more. You still can't stop laughing, though, especially since Sans insists on poking you in the ribs despite your incredibly ineffective attempts to grab his hands. 

" **there you go, kiddo. with all those lungs you got in there--** "

"SANS, NO--"

" **\--breathing oughtta be--** "

"SANS, I AM WARNING YOU--"

" **\--a cake-walk.** "

“...I HATE EVERYTHING!!!”

* * *

Later, once everyone has gone home and the decorations have come down, you find Papyrus in the kitchen. He's wrapping uneaten pieces of cake without nearly the enthusiasm that he usually has when he's in the kitchen. Standing on your toes, you reach up to tug on his scarf. When he looks at you, his eyes are suspiciously damp. 

"FRISK? WHAT ARE YOU--?"

You hold out the drawing you've been working on since the other kids left. He takes it from you and looks at it, and his eyes get even more suspiciously damp. He sets the drawing carefully on the kitchen counter before he turns back to you and scoops you into his arms. Giggling, you cling to him and rest your head on his shoulder. "Thank you for my party."

"I AM-- I-- YOU'RE WELCOME."

" **hey, no one told me there were group hugs happening.** " There's a screech of wood on tile as Sans drags a kitchen chair over, and a moment later, his squishy warmth thumps into place against your back and his arms wrap around you both.

"SANS, WE NEED TO BUY ANOTHER REFRIGERATOR. THE HUMAN HAS MADE ANOTHER DRAWING AND WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF SPACE ON THE FIRST ONE."

" **sure thing, bro. we'll get right on that**."

"After hugs," you correct him.

He gives a quiet snort of laughter. " **right, kid. priorities**."

You sigh happily, nuzzling your head beneath Papyrus' chin. "Best. Birthday. Ever."

"WELL, OF COURSE IT WAS! WITH THE GREAT PAPYRUS ON THE JOB, DID YOU DOUBT IT COULD BE ANYTHING BUT?"

Smiling, you shake your head. No, you hadn't doubted. Not for a single second.

  


	3. Nickname

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The skelebros aren't the only ones who look after Frisk, and sometimes it's the quiet moments that lead to great discoveries. A game of hide and seek with Dad adds a new nickname to your inventory.

Nostalgia wraps around you as you move through the vines, ducking beneath leaves so large they block out the sunlight streaming through the greenhouse glass overhead. The smell of damp earth is thick around you, but it’s not a bad thing. It smells of green, and life, and growing things.

“Hmm…Let’s see what’s ripe today.” the deep rumbly voice drifts toward you across the vegetable garden, and you duck even further beneath your concealing umbrella of leaves, pressing a hand against your mouth to keep from giggling.

This garden is different from the cozy gardens in the greenhouse at home. Those are really just for your own family, and the friends who spend their time at the big house. This garden is much, much bigger, and it was one of the first ideas that you and Dad came up with together.

The monsters had been very surprised to learn that some humans didn’t have enough to eat. Sure, there were monsters who sold food, and they weren’t about to just give it away to anyone, but generally, if you were really hungry, someone, somewhere, would make sure you had what you needed. It was as you were helping Asgore start the vegetable garden at the big house, talking over that very problem, that you hit upon the idea together -- what if you took one of the big embassy gardens and turned it into an orchard, where anyone who was hungry could come and eat from the trees, or dig for potatoes, or pick the berries and peas and runner beans that grew on the vines running up the embassy walls?

It was the first idea that both human and monster diplomats unanimously endorsed. Every class at the school spends time learning how to tend the plants in the garden now, though Asgore remains their overseer. Other people tried, but the plants just grow best when they’re under his care. Mom says it’s because he never stops talking to them, but she sounds almost proud when she says it these days.

The greenhouse is really just for winter, when the snow claims the gardens outside. Almost as if they know that everyone is depending on them to get them through those long, cold months, the plants in the greenhouse garden grow to enormous proportions.

It’s the perfect place for hiding.

“Let’s see…. these tomatoes are coming along nicely, but they need a few more days, I think.” The rumbly voice moves a little closer, and you edge along the vines, sticking beneath the canopy of leaves over your head. “The cucumbers are almost there. Almost. But oh! What do we have here?”

You hold your breath, waiting to hear what he’s found. An instant later, great white hands burst through the leaves over your head, and you let out a squeal as they seize you around the waist and toss you into the air.

You’re flying, and falling, and breathless with laughter as those strong hands catch you, and you find yourself staring into a familiar bearded face.

“Goodness, me!” Asgore tosses you again, and your laughter doubles. “What an unusual little pumpkin! I have never seen one so giggly before!”

You told Undyne these overalls were too orange! The green shirt she picked out to go under them probably doesn’t help, either. But Asgore doesn’t seem to mind at all as he holds you over his head, peering intently at you. “I wonder if this pumpkin is good enough to eat?” he continues.

“Noooo!” you protest through your giggles, but it’s too late, and your hands bat futilely at his horns as he nuzzles his head against you until you can barely breathe from the tickling. Finally, in a last ditch effort to save yourself, you wrap your arms around his muzzle and cling tightly.

He gives a startled “mmmph!” and lets go of you, and you’re dangling in the air above the squash patch. His nose isn’t that big, and you quickly slip free, but you don’t fall far before he catches you, hugging you close to his broad chest. He’s laughing now, too, and you can hear the pounding of his heart as you rest your head against him. The shirt he’s wearing today is patterned with happy fish, and you wonder idly if Undyne has been helping him with the clothes shopping, too.

“Howdy, Pumpkin,” he says fondly, and you smile up at him. It had just been a silly joke, but the word fills his mouth like a name, and you find that it makes you feel warm and comfy when he uses it that way. You don’t think you’d like it from anyone else, but from him? It fits. Your smile widens as he bumps his nose against yours.  “Ready to help with the harvest?”

You nod, and he places you on his shoulders before moving off toward the apple trees. Clinging to his horns for balance with one hand, you reach up until your fingers brush against the fruit, and you carefully twist one free and pass it down to him.

It would be easier and probably faster just to climb the tree yourself, but the two of you always start this way. It’s just so much more fun to work like this -- together.


	4. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a typical day of training for a monster family and their human child.

The wind whips the snow around you into a haze of glittering ice. For one precious, frozen moment, the sounds of battle fall away around you, and everything grows utterly, perfectly still.

The moment is shattered by the shrilling of your cellphone, and it’s a ringtone that you know you can ignore only at your peril. The ice shifts, and you throw yourself to the side, tucking into a roll as a blue spear streaks through the mist to embed itself deep into the snow where you were standing. You bounce to your feet and grab the spear, pulling the phone out with your other hand. Raising the spear just in time to deflect a laser beam that burns through the snow toward you, you quickly plug your headphones into the phone and accept the call.

“Hi Mom! How’s the summit?”

“Hello, Frisk, dear. It goes as well as could be expected, I suppose.”

The weary frustration in Toriel’s voice is evident even through the cellular connection, and you grin as you race across the hilltop to avoid another volley of spears. “You haven’t set anyone on fire yet, have you?”

She laughs, some of her weariness easing. “No. You will be very proud of me, my child. I have been remarkably restrained.”

“You’re the best at being patient, Mom.”

Toriel laughs. “I am not, but that is sweet of you to say nonetheless.”

“I believe in you anyway, Mom. Stay determined.” Jabbing your spear of choice into the snow in front of you, you grab the last projectile out of the air, spinning with it to throw it back into the mists, and you’re rewarded by a particularly colourful curse in response.

“I will, my little one, though-- gracious, what are you up to?”

Impaling a small robot drone on your spear before it can finish burrowing through the snow beneath your feet, you fling it back down the hill. “Training. We’re playing Monarch of the Mountain. Undyne and Alphys are trying to usurp me.”

“Really? Are you ruling that mountain with an iron fist?”

You sigh, with an affectionate roll of your eyes. “Yes, Mom.”

“Good child. I am proud of you. I shall let you continue with your regime, then. Do not let your kingdom fall.”

“I won’t. Love you, Mom. Don’t set anyone on fire.”

“I love you too, my child. I shall try not to, but I make no promises. Remember to eat your vegetables and don’tstayuptoolatewatchingmovies!”

You end the call just as two shapes stir through the mists at the base of the mountain. Grinning in triumph, you raise your spear in striking command. “ _Release the hounds!”_ you bellow.

Nothing happens.

Groaning, you tuck your spear beneath your arm and scoop a handful of snow, quickly packing it into a ball. “Sans!” You whip the snowball down the hill. Sans jumps as it spatters against his head, and lowers the magazine he’s reading. “Release the hounds!” you say again, trying to ignore the snickering coming from the mist. You frown and use your spear to knock away the other one that lances toward you.

“ **oh, right, right. sorry, kid.** ” With a wink that tells you he’s probably not very sorry at all, he waves a hand, and the gate of bones in front of the cave at the base of your mountain sinks into the snow.

A chorus of eerie howls weaves into the mist, and a tide of growling, snarling shapes pours forth toward the usurpers. At least, it starts to. Greater Dog immediately bounds off to chase an errant spear, and Lesser Dog gets so excited to see you that it stretches its head so far up the hill that it collapses under the weight of its own neck and lies there, body at the base of the mountain and head nearly at the top, wagging its tail in unbounded joy as it licks as much of your foot as it can reach. Over Doggo’s complaints of not being able to see anything because of the snow, the Dogi are too busy nuzzling each other and making lovey noises to pay much attention to you.

Endogeny bounds up the hill to froth happily on you, and you sigh as you raise a hand to ward off the slime. Using the spear to placate it with scritches behind one of its feelers, you peer through its shadowy form toward the base of the hill. “Okay, so I think I need to work on this iron fist thing.” You blink as a little white dog trots past, his tail a blur as it carries a bony, sneaker-clad leg in its mouth.

“ **tough luck, buddy.** ” Sans gives you a lazy wave from where he’s flopped, one-legged, in a snowdrift. Lesser Dog’s tail is whipping up a fall of snow that’s slowly covering the rest of him. “ **guess you’re on your own**.”

You narrow your eyes and tighten the scarf around your neck. He’s right. It’s up to you to take down your rival monarch and win the day. Taking your spear in both hands, you glance down quickly to make sure both boots are tied properly. Satisfied, you tug your woolly hat firmly down on your head, and throw yourself down the hill with a bellow of challenge.

“Ha! That ‘NGGGAAAHHH!’ was almost intimidating!” comes an answering voice from the mist. You swerve to avoid the subsequent volley of spears, ducking and rolling out of their way as they thunk into the snow. If Undyne is in that direction, than that means…

You dart to your left, grabbing another handful of snow as you race between the trees. As the drone you anticipated buzzes out of the bushes toward you, you hurl the snow at its camera, and in wobbles blindly through the air until it crashes into a nearby trunk. With a whoop of triumph, you leap over the bush in front of you, and have a moment to take in the look of startled shock on Alphys’ upturned face below you before you’re on top of her, driving her into the snow.

Rolling through the collision, you bounce back to your feet, still running. You glance back to see Alphys’ legs kicking at the air just before you lose sight of her. An instant later, you hear the expected cry of surprise from Undyne as she stumbles across Alphys, followed by a frustrated grunt as she hauls her girlfriend free of the snow.

Perfect. That’s all the time you need. Pushing yourself even harder, you break free of the trees at the foot of your rival’s mountain.

But he is not unprepared. Before your boots even touch the hill, bones erupt from the snow, streaking toward you in a blur of blue and white. Gasping, you leap over the first wave, tumbling and weaving through the macabre forest that the bones have formed around you, freezing when need be as the blue fire flares to life along them.

They keep coming, fast and relentless, but your feet never stop. Over, under, around, through, driving ever forward, ever upward, even as the bones chase you around the snowy mountain. Further and further you climb, and they’re coming stronger now, lacing together in words of challenge and boasting that taunt you as the sweat streams down your face and stings your eyes.

You can see him now, shadowed at the peak of the hill. Like a thousand angry hornets, the bones sing as they whiz through the air around you, and it’s all you can do to stay one step ahead of them. You’re close, so close, but the snow bursts into a glittering spray as a white fence breaches the icy gap between you.

You can’t lose. Not now. With a cry of defiance, you plant the spear in the ground, and the vault swings you up, and up, and up toward the sky…

And you’re clear. You land on the other side, skidding across the snow, and he has nothing left. You sprint the remaining steps between you, one, two, and launch yourself toward the peak of the hill, hands outstretched as you fly.

Then his mittened hands pluck you from the air, and the momentum of your leap spins you around, and around, and you’re both laughing as Papyrus lifts you over his head in triumph.

“WOWIE! FRISK, YOU DID IT! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH YOU ONCE THIS TIME! THAT’S A NEW RECORD!”You drop, but only far enough for Papyrus to wrap his arms around your waist and hug you close. Still giggling, you throw your arms around his neck and bury your face against the warmth of his scarf as you struggle to catch your breath.

“Hey, Punk!” You raise your head at Undyne’s shout to see that she’s grinning as she trudges up the hill, holding Sans by the foot and dragging him behind her. He’s still reading his magazine, seemingly unperturbed by the trench he’s leaving in the snow. “That was some seriously fancy footwork there! I think I’m actually PROUD of you!”

Papyrus sniffs as he rests your weight on one hip. “CAN YOU BELIEVE IT, UNDYNE? OUR LITTLE HUMAN, ALL GROWN UP AND CONQUERING RIVAL MONARCHS!”

“HA! Not quite grown up. You know what this means? We have to up the challenge!” She lets out a roar of laughter, tearing off her fluffy parka to better display the intimidating flex of her biceps beneath her tank top. “WE SHALL BUILD A TRAINING COURSE THE LIKES OF WHICH THIS WORLD HAS NEVER SEEN! WITH GUARDS! AND TRAPS!”

“AND PUZZLES?!??”

“THE PUZZLIEST OF PUZZLES!!!” Undyne drops Sans into the snow and turns to bellow down the hill. “ALPHYS!”

The little scientist had almost made it to the top of the hill, but despite the protection of her panda earmuffs, the yell startles her so much that she almost drops Sans’ leg. She recovers though, resuming her slow climb, panting as she fights against the dog still valiantly tugging on Sans’s foot in resistance. “Y-yes, Undyne?”

“CLEAR YOUR CALENDAR, BABYCAKES! WE ARE GOING TO PLAN THE ULTIMATE CAMPAIGN THIS WEEKEND!”

“Oooh!” Alphys brightens, adjusting her glasses. “Can we order Chinese?”

“Sure, Babe, whatever you want. Gotta fuel that big brain of yours somehow.” Undyne reaches down to pluck Alphys out of the snow. Sans’ leg and the dog come with her, and Undyne gives an irritated sigh. Grabbing Sans’ leg out of Alphys’s hand, she shakes the dog off and tosses the leg back to Sans. “Here. You might need this.”

Sans grunts as his own foot kicks him in the stomach, and glances down at the interruption. “ **oh, hey. i was wondering where that went. thanks**.” He folds the magazine and slips it into his jacket before sitting up and attempting to jam his leg back into place.

You rest your head against Papyrus’ shoulder, watching fondly as Undyne tucks Alphys beneath her arm and bounds down the hill to begin planning the next phase of your training, both of them exclaiming animatedly over ideas until their voices fade into the distance.

“ **tired, kiddo?** ”

You glance down at Sans from your perch on Papyrus and nod.

“AS WELL YOU SHOULD BE. IT TAKES THE GREATEST AMOUNT OF ENERGY TO FACE THE GREAT PAPYRUS AND WIN.” You just hug him more tightly, and he gives you an affectionate ‘Nyeh,” bouncing you to settle you more comfortably on his hip. “COME, TINY HUMAN. WE SHALL CELEBRATE YOUR VICTORY WITH THE VERY FINEST OF OUR FINE PASTA, AND THEN SANS SHALL READ US TO SLEEP WITH THE NEXT CHAPTER OF THAT BOOK ABOUT THE BROTHERS WHO SOLVE THE MYSTERIES.”

“ **so, hey, papyrus…** ”

Papyrus turns to glare at his brother. “NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT, YOU LAZYBONES. YOU CAN WALK YOURSELF.”

“ **about that…** ”

“SANS.”

“ **...you might say that…** ”

“I MEAN IT THIS TIME!”

“ **...i don’t have a leg to stand on**.” Sans gestures with his disarticulated leg. Its sneakered foot waves gaily at Papyrus.

You can feel Papyrus quivering with irritation and indecision, and await the inevitable. Sure enough, a moment later, he gives a strangled cry and reaches down to snag Sans and stuff him under his other arm.

“FINE. BUT YOU ARE READING *TWO* CHAPTERS!!!”

“ **sure, bro, whatever you say**.”

“UNDER THE BLANKETS.”

“ **right on**.”

“AND WE’RE MAKING A PILLOW FORT. WITH FLASHLIGHTS AND HOT CHOCOLATE AND A REALLY COOL SECRET PASSWORD. AND GET UNDYNE’S JACKET OUT OF THE SNOW, WILL YOU? WE NEVER DID GET THE STAINS OUT OF THE LAST ONE.”

Sans stretches out his leg, flailing it around until its wobbling foot is in the right position to snag the hood of Undyne’s discarded parka. Thus satisfied, Papyrus starts down the hill toward the skeletons’ cozy little house, you and Sans both dripping snow in his wake. Before long, Papyrus is singing a happy little song about snow and dogs and spaghetti, and you hum along under your breath.

“ **you did good today, kiddo.** ”

You peer over Papyrus’ shoulder until you can see Sans as he dangles under Papyrus’ arm. He’s holding Undyne’s parka close to his chest with one hand, and the other droops down, trailing his leg so that the foot leaves a line behind next to Papyrus’ footprints.

“Thanks,” you answer, wincing a little as Papyrus tries for a high note. “I’m just worried about what happens when Papyrus stops going easy on me.”

“ **oh, he never goes easy on you.** ” As you stare over Papyrus’s shoulder at him, he just grins at you. “ **he takes your training real serious. don’t get me wrong, my bro’s got wicked control, but that just means he’ll stop just shy of actually hurting you. right up ‘till then, he’s going all out.** ” Sans flips his leg around so that he can use his foot to scratch behind his head. “ **you earned your bragging rights today, kid.** ”

You stare up at Papyrus, wide-eyed, as his voice screeches to a crescendo on the chorus. “Wow,” you breathe.

“ **i know, right?** ” Sans agrees. “ **my brother is so cool.** ”

* * *

 

Later that night, tucked into the pillow fort, you lie awake and stare at the blanket above you as you think about what Sans said. You turn your head toward Papyrus on your left, watching him in the soft glow of the nightlight around which you built the fort. He fell asleep first, as he always does, and Sans dropped off not long after, mid-paragraph -- he’s currently pressed against your other side, leaving you snug between the two surprisingly soft skeletons. Papyrus certainly doesn’t seem very threatening, especially not now, in his fuzzy flannel pyjamas with the happy little robots all over them. But as you think back over the events of the day, you start to realize that Sans was right. This time, the first time you made it through Papyrus’ challenge without being hit once, is the first time you haven’t come away purple with bruises. He always stops before you get really hurt, always, but that doesn’t mean he goes easy on you, either.

He really does believe in you that much.

The forgotten book slips off Sans’ lap, and Papyrus stirs in his sleep, turning to wrap his arms around you and Sans. You’re well and truly smushed now, but you don’t mind. It’s snuggly and warm between your brothers, and Papyrus is actually sleeping for a change. If you can help him stay happy and rested after a day like today, it’s the least you can do.

“You really are a super-cool brother,” you whisper.

“ **darn right he is,** ”  a sleepy voice murmurs behind you.

You let out a quiet whuff of air as Sans flops more comfortably atop you and Papyrus and goes back to snoring, though you can’t help noticing the slight blue flush that steals over him when you turn to give him a goodnight kiss on the top of his head.

“Coolest brothers,” you amend.

The snoring breaks in a quiet snort of laughter, and Sans’ arm wraps around you in a hug. “ **yeah, we’ve trained you real good,** ” he whispers. “ **now do me a favour, kiddo. hit the light and go to sleep.** ”

You yawn, and free one hand to grab Sans’ leg from the other side of Papyrus, stretching it out until the tip of its sneaker is poised above the switch on the nightlight. Carefully, you hit the switch, and as darkness settles over the fort, you lower your head against soft flannel and let yourself drift off, too.


	5. Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite everything you've been though, you're still just a human kid, and sometimes surprise setbacks can make you unexpectedly sad. Fortunately, your monster family is good at fixing lots of things. Including human hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to say that if you haven't seen Hamster's awesomely phenomenal art from chapter 1, go back there and check it out. You won't regret it. :D

“This… this insult is INEXCUSABLE. PREPARE TO FIGHT TO THE DEATH!”

Artie glances up as Undyne’s bellow echoes across the yard. “Yo, what are they even fighting about again?” They add a few more leaves to the rather impressive pile you’ve collected. The pile is above both of your heads now, but it was a good excuse to test the new extensor function on Artie’s arms, and so far they’ve been able to keep adding leaves to the top of the pile despite the fact that it tops both of you by a good three feet.

“Something about a challenge,” Alphys mumbles, watching Artie’s arms carefully as they drop another handful on the top of the pile. Frowning, she grabs Artie’s left elbow, ignoring their long-suffering, “dude!” as she uses a tiny screwdriver to make a small adjustment to the elbow joint. “There. That should be even now.”

Artie tests out the reach before retracting both arms and giving Alphys a thumbs-up. “Thanks, Doc! Soo…. when do we get to add tasers to these babies?”

Alphys scowls. “No.”

Undeterred -- this is an old argument -- Artie just clasps their hands beneath their chin. It makes a faint ‘clank’ that only slightly ruins the mood. “But Alphyyyyys. That cool dude in that anime we watched at the lab yesterday when we were supposed to be working--” Alphys begins to make a shushing motion, as Artie ploughs on, undeterred, “--he had wicked tasers in _his_ metal arm. But…” Artie digs their foot into the ground, and looks up at Alphys. “If you think that kind of tech is just too cool for a monster, I guess I understand.”

“W-well… erm, I suppose if we did modify the voltage emitters in such a way that… no, no…” Alphys taps a thoughtful claw against her chin. “But maybe if we used some of the foundational principles of Frisk’s science project to convert your magical energy to--”

“ **bet tori’s glad she left you with responsible adults, eh, kid?** ”

Alphys leaps with a little screech, clearly having forgotten who’d been at the bottom of the leaf pile when you started building it. Not that you blame her. Sans is a master of lying still without moving for a really long time, and he’d long since been lost to the foliage. “S-sans! You--you wouldn’t t-tell the queen, w-would you?”

“ **i dunno,** ” the voice from the bottom of the leaf pile muses. “ **it was pretty… shocking.** ”

You grin and straighten Alphys’ scarf. “He won’t tell. He just wanted an excuse to make a bad joke.”

“ **hey, i object. all my jokes are electrifying.** ”

As Alphys sags in quiet relief, you bounce on your toes and glance at the leaf pile. “Hey, Sans. Flatskeletonsayswhat?”

“ **...what?** ”

You spread your arms, ignoring Artie’s howl of protest as you let yourself topple into the pile. Leaves explode around you in a shower of reds, and oranges, and golds, blinding you with colour as you fall through them. Then, there’s a sharp “ **oof!** ” as you land on something soft and squishy, and a pair of arms wraps around you and pins you to that softness. The leaves fall away, and as your vision clears, you’re nose-to-not-nose with a familiar face sporting an even more familiar grin. But you can’t quite tell if the grin is happy or annoyed this time.

“Hi,” you say.

“ **welp. you’ve gone and done it. you’re stuck now.** ”

You blink at him, tilting your head in confusion. “Stuck?”

“ **yup. you were my last hope for getting dug out of this pile. now we’re gonna have to stay here forever. hope you like spiders, kiddo. i hear they’re big fans of leaf piles.** ”

“Noooo!” you howl, struggling to free yourself, but for such a lazy guy, Sans sure knows how to hold on tight when he wants to. It’s not that you particularly mind either spiders or leaves, but you’ve been part of his family long enough to know what’s coming next, and with your arms pinned to your sides like they are, there’s no defense against it. Sure enough, you feel a brush against your ribs as he finds the weaknesses he learned to exploit a long time ago, and a second later, the tickling begins in earnest. You fight valiantly, but Sans is a merciless tickler, and it isn’t long before he has you laughing so hard you can barely breathe. In a last-ditch attempt to save yourself, you roll hard, but he just comes with you, scattering the leaf pile as you go.

“Aw, man!” Artie’s voice filters through the leaves above you. “Now we have to build it all again.”

But as hard as you’re fighting against it, it’s just part of the game. Sans always stops exactly when you need him to, and after laughing that much, you always feel so much more relaxed and happy as you slump breathlessly on top of him. For his part, you think he just really likes to hear you laughing. His smile never changes, but it always seems brighter when you laugh, and you enjoy knowing when his grin is really, truly for real. Besides, tickling is easy for a slacker like Sans; all he has to do is move his fingertips.

“What are you two laughing about??!?”  You jump, Sans’ arms tightening reflexively as Undyne’s shout pierces your leafy covering. You can feel the thud reverberating through the ground (and through Sans) as Undyne stomps her foot. “That traitor thinks he can just get away with this betrayal! This is no laughing matter!!!”

“Undyne, what exactly did Papyrus do?” Alphys asks. You stir beneath the leaves, listening for the answer.

“He’s getting TALLER than me, Alphys! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THAT FEELS LIKE?”

“Uhhhh….” says Alphys.

“ **a pretty good idea, actually,** ” Sans adds from under you.

“NGAAAAH!!! YOU ARE NO HELP. Fine, I’ll just have to stretch myself until I’m the tallest again. ALPHYS! If I tie weights to my feet and do a ton of pull-ups, that’ll make me taller, right?”

Alphys clears her throat nervously. “I’m not really sure that…”

A distant “NYEH HEH HEH!” drifts across the yard toward you, and a feeling of foreboding chases down your spine. You sit up in a shower of leaves, dragging Sans with you, as every face in your little gathering turns toward the skeletons’ house. Papyrus is on the roof, arms akimbo, his cape blowing in the breeze.

“BEHOLD, UNDYNE! SEE HOW TALL I AM *NOW!* ADMIT IT, THIS IS ONE CHALLENGE IN WHICH I AM *HEAD AND SHOULDERS* ABOVE YOU!!! THAT IS A CLEVER JEST, YOU SEE, AS I STAND LITERALLY TALLER THAN YOU AS WELL AS BEING THE VICTOR IN THE FIGURATIVE SENSE OF THE EXPRESSION!”

“ **aww, he almost made a joke. i’m so moved.** ” Sans wipes a tear of pride from his eye.

“WE’LL SEE ABOUT THAT! NGAAAAAAHHHHH!” Undyne raises her foot, and the subsequent stamp leaves a small crater as she launches herself into the air.

Your eyes widen, and you hold out a hand. “Wait! Undyne, stop!”

“ngggaaaaaAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!” The cry grows louder as Undyne plummets out of the sky, barreling into the roof next to Papyrus and passing straight through. A small spray of splinters and shingles rains down around the hole as she vanishes from sight.

Papyrus leans over the hole, peering down in dismay. “UNDYNE, IF YOU WANTED TO JUMP ON THE HUMAN’S BED, YOU ONLY NEEDED TO ASK. FRISK IS VERY ACCOMMODATING.”

“My room,” you whisper, exchanging a look with Sans, Alphys, and Artie. An instant later, you’re running up the hill to the house as fast as you can go. Well, three of you are. You’re pretty sure Sans took a shortcut, but you rarely see him go when he does.

Shortly afterward, you’re standing in the doorway to your room, staring in dismay at the mess of wood and shingle on your pretty blue bedspread with the happy skulls on it. A massive hole gapes in the ceiling overhead, and the leaves stirring in the wind around the house fall like slow rain through the gap.

“WELL,” Papyrus says, standing next to Undyne as she brushes plaster from her arms. “THIS IS A SATISFYING AND FORTUITOUSLY EQUITABLE TURN OF EVENTS.”

“You broke my heart. I broke your house.” Undyne flashes him a toothy grin. “Sounds fair to me!”

Your bedroom… it’s ruined. As you stare at the mess, your lower lip begins to tremble.

Sans catches sight of you from where he’s slouched against your doorframe and straightens quickly. Faster than you usually ever see him move, he reaches out to yank on his brother’s cape. “ **uh-oh, papyrus, heads up. code blue.** ”

Papyrus whirls in alarm as the tears begin to well in your eyes. “WHA-- NO! FRISK, THIS IS CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION, NOT TEARS! CAN YOU NOT SEE THE POETRY IN THIS ARRANGEMENT?”

You sniffle as your nose begins to run. Tears fill your eyes until everything blurs.

“Yeah, punk, don’t be sad!” Undyne slings an arm around Papyrus’ shoulders. “Papyrus and I are totally cool again, and I got to make this awesome hole. Everybody wins!”

Everybody except your bedroom. It was a really nice bedroom, too. After everything that happened to you before you fell and just after, you were really happy to have it. It meant that even when you couldn’t be in your room at the Big House, you still had a place that was _home_. And now it had leaves and sticks and an angry squirrel in it.

The tears slip down your face, hot against skin chilled by the autumn air that swirls through the hole.

With a cry of alarm, Papyrus swoops down upon you, scooping you into his arms and cradling you against his shoulder. “SANS!” Papyrus bounces you, attempting to jostle the tears away, but he only makes them come faster. “DO SOMETHING HELPFUL!”

Sans grabs your parasol from where it’s leaning in the corner and pops it open before placing it on your bed beneath the hole.

You turn your face into Papyrus’ shoulder and begin to sob in earnest.

“THAT WAS THE OPPOSITE OF HELPFUL!” Papyrus roars.

“ **i don’t have a _hole_ lot of ideas here, bro,** ” Sans answers.

“ _Hooooole_ ,” you wail, and Papyrus hugs you tighter, bouncing you so earnestly that your teeth rattle.

“OH MY GOD, SANS! THIS IS NOT THE TIME!” In desperation, he tries to soothe you by stroking your hair. It’s something he picked up a while ago, though you’re not sure if he got the idea from Toriel or the dog. It might have worked, but the squirrel gets scared by your crying and runs from the room, knocking the family photo off your nightstand in the process. The crash of breaking glass just sets you off harder.

“ALPHYS!” Undyne steps over a fallen beam to grab the little scientist off the ground, holding her at eye-level. “You’re smart. DO SOMETHING!”

“Uhhhh….” Alphys lifts a claw, drawing a breath, but then lets it out in a rush. “I’m stumped.”

“Whoa!” comes a surprised exclamation from the doorway. You blink the tears from your eyes, turning to look. You’d almost forgotten about Artie in the commotion, but they appear to have stopped off at the kitchen to make a sandwich during the race up to your room. They take a bite of the sandwich now, chewing thoughtfully as they stare up at the gaping hole in the ceiling. “Dude. Awesome skylight.” They turn to Undyne with a hopeful look. “Yo, Teach! Think you can make me one?”

“S-skylight?” You hiccup, glancing up at the hole.

Alphys claps her hands with a squeal of glee. “Yes! It’s the perfect size. I’ve got some experimental thermoglass left over from the last greenhouse redesign, too. I can talk to some of the old crew from the Core. It’ll be done in no time!”

Undyne laughs, planting a kiss on Alphys that has the saurian scientist turning bright red. “I knew you’d think of something, Babycakes!”

Sniffing, you lean your head against Papyrus’ shoulder as you contemplate the gap. A skylight? You never thought about it before, but maybe… maybe it could work. As your tears finally subside, Papyrus gives a sigh of relief, still petting you gently. You’re pretty sure it’s comforting him as much as it is you.

“THERE, YOU SEE? AS LONG AS YOU’RE WITH THE GREAT PAPYRUS, EVERYTHING WILL TURN OUT RIGHT. I WILL EVEN LET YOU SLEEP IN MY BED UNTIL IT IS DONE.”

“But you love your race car bed,” you protest, looking up at him.

“NYEH.” He bumps his forehead lightly against yours. “LET IT STAND AS A SHINING BEACON TO THE TESTAMENT OF MY AFFECTIONS.”

You’re not entirely sure what that means, but not even you have enough determination to prevail in the face of Papyrus’ overwhelming love and friendship, and you smile.

A skylight…

Distantly, you remember echoes of a whispered conversation. Remember looking overhead to see only crystals glittering in the darkness. Suddenly, a skylight doesn’t seem so bad…

* * *

The nightmare is an old one, familiar enough that you don’t cry when it rips you out of sleep. You just bolt upright, hugging your knees to your chest as you wait for your heart to stop pounding. Glancing down, you run a finger over the happy skulls on your bedspread, letting their smiles remind you that it was just a dream.

It’s not quite enough. You raise your trembling hand to tug down the collar of your wild west pyjamas. Glancing down, you run a hand over your chest. Still intact. No spear. Not even a hole. With a shaky sigh, you whisper the last words that echo from your dream.

“Somebody help…”

After a moment of silence, a voice answers from the dark. “ **whaddya need, kiddo?** ”

“Friend-shaped hugs?” you ask.

A soft snort answers you, and Sans steps into the pool of starlight surrounding your bed. Pausing, he reaches out to straighten the photo on your bedside table. It just kind of reappeared there this morning, but you have your suspicions that he’s the one who fixed it. Sans kind of has a knack for photos. “ **i think i can manage that. scoot on over, bud.** ”

He climbs up next to you and puts his arms around you. It’s not often he’s out of his jacket, it takes effort to put on and take off, but he’s changed into his favourite pyjamas -- soft flannel bottoms with hot dogs all over them, and a top with a small dog in sunglasses beneath the words “bad to the bone.” He’s still wearing the grey hoodie he usually sports underneath his lighter, hoodless jacket, and it’s soft beneath your fingers as you cling to it, drawing comfort and security from the hug. Hugs are one of the few things Sans almost never slacks off on, and the strength of it reminds you where you are, helping you shake off the last cobwebs of the nightmare.

“I had a bad dream,” you murmur against his shoulder.

“ **i know,** ” he says, and pats your back. “ **but you’re here now. and me. and papyrus if you wanna wake him up.** ”

“He’s actually asleep?” you ask. “Not just napping?”

“ **nope. turns out two days of heavy construction wear a guy out.** ”

Despite the adrenaline still coursing through you, you smile. “Better let him sleep, then.”

“ **good plan. us short guys gotta watch out for the tall guy, right?** ” Sans lets go of you and sits back on your comforter, his hands in his pockets. “ **hey, frisk. flathumansayshuh?** ”

“Huh?” you ask, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

With his hands still deep in his pockets, Sans spreads his arms, his hoodie flapping open like the wings of a bat. Before you can do more than let out a squeak of surprise, he flops on top of you, flattening you beneath him. Giggles burst from you as his fingers find the ticklish places on your ribs. By the time the tussle ends, you’re both sprawled on your backs, staring at the skylight above you, and the pounding of your heart is from laughter instead of fear. You’re warm beneath the comforter, but though Sans is lying on top of it next to you, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by the lack of a blanket of his own. Thinking about it, the house _is_ usually pretty cozy, and Alphys did great work on the skylight. It’s just that nightmares always leave you feeling cold.

A lot less cold after the tickle fight, though.

“ **phew,** ” Sans sighs. “ **i’m gonna need a nap after all this excitement. you’re really making me earn my keep tonight, buckaroo.** ”

You snug deeper beneath the covers, and wriggle over until your head is on his shoulder. He gives a quiet laugh and pulls the comforter more snugly beneath your chin before putting his arm around you, giving in to your silent demand. He rests his other arm behind his head, tilting his face up to the stars.

“It’s a nice night,” you say.

“ **sure is. wonder how those stars get so twinkly.** ” He rests his head against yours, following your gaze. “ **is that the big dipper?** ”

Giggling, you shake your head. There’s a soft “pffth” from Sans as he blows your hair out of his mouth. “No, that’s Cassiopeia. She’s a queen.”

“ **oh. are those her horns?** ”

“No, she’s not like Mom. It’s a ‘w’ ‘cause she’s sitting on a throne.”

“ **ah, okay, I see it now.** ” He points up at another one. “ **what’s the big square?** ”

“Pegasus. It’s a flying horse.” You sneak one hand out from under the blankets to point. “They’re telling a story. Cassiopeia’s daughter Andromeda got chained to a rock so that monster there -- his name is Cepheus, and he’s not nice like real monsters -- he was going to eat her. But Perseus -- that’s him, there -- he rode Pegasus to the rescue and saved Andromeda.”

“ **huh. what happened to the monster?** ”

“I think Perseus killed it,” you say, sadly. “None of those old stories ever seem to care much about the monster.”

Sans turns his head to look at you. “ **you woulda done it differently, huh?** ”

“I would have seen if Cepheus wanted spaghetti instead of princess,” you answer. “Maybe he was just cranky ‘cause he hadn’t had anything warm and yummy to eat. I’m sure if someone just made him a nice lunch and talked to him a while, he wouldn’t have been so murdery.”

“ **heh. right. just do me a favour, kid. if you ever decide to go meet a princess-eating monster in a murdery mood for lunch, give me a heads-up first, okay?** ”

“Okay. I’m sure I’ll be fine though. It worked with Undyne.”

Grinning, Sans reaches out to boop your nose. “ **and that’s why i less-than-three you the best of all humans.** ”

“I heart you, too.” You yawn, blinking up at the glittering sky. “If the stars moved a bit more, we could see Capricorn. That’s the goat. But I always thought it looked more like a heart.”

Sans shifts the arm that’s around you so that he can pet your hair, and each stroke makes your eyes heavier. After all the time he’s spent calming you down after nightmares, he’s learned all the tricks for getting you back to sleep again. Even though he usually ends up cheating in the end. Yawning again, you burrow more firmly into your squashy skeleton pillow, and he snickers. “ **comfy there, buddy?** ” You nod, and he tucks your hand back under the blankets. “ **how’d you get to know so much about stars, anyway?** ”

For a minute, you don’t say anything. You just watch the quiet twinkling of the stars, catching your breath as a lonely meteor streaks across the sky. “Dad,” you say at last. “Human Dad. He taught this stuff. We used to go out all the time. Kinda like this, only out in a big field with a tent. Mom hated it. Not the star stuff, but she said if humankind was meant to sleep in a field, we wouldn’t have invented bathrooms. So usually, it was just me and Dad.”

Your blinks are getting heavier, but you’re a little surprised to find that they’re not accompanied by the sting of tears this time. Your heart still aches when you talk about life before you fell, but it’s getting easier to remember the happy times without having the memories hurt.

“ **hey, frisk?** ”

“mmm?”

“ **you think you could teach me sometime?** ”

Despite how heavy your eyes have gotten, you open them again at the question. Sans is watching you, and it strikes you, in that moment on the edge of sleep, just how well you’ve come to know how very many expressions there can be on a face that never changes. He’s not joking, or teasing. Not this time.

With a smile, you bury your face against him and let your eyes drift closed again. “Sure. Good thing I got a skylight.”

He gives a soft snort of laughter. “ **you said it. g’night, nerd**.”

“G’night, bigger nerd.”

“ **eh. i’ll give you that one.** ”

He can’t kiss you. Skeletons just aren’t made that way, and not even magic can make up for that much. But somehow, the touch on the top of your head conveys the same feeling, and a contented sigh escapes you as you begin to slip away again. There’s a gentle brush of magic, like a cool breeze washing through you. A soft tide that speeds you toward slumber. It’s cheating, but you don’t really mind. Your last thought before you submerge completely is to wonder what your human Dad would have thought of Sans.

You’re pretty sure that once they got started talking sci fi with your human Mom, they’d never stop. That thought puts a smile on your face, and it colours your dreams and makes them sweet.

* * *

 

Your gift to Sans on the next Annual Winter Celebration of Putting Presents Under A Tree is a telescope. A new one, with lenses powerful enough to see much farther than the distance from a sparkling cave roof to the ground below.  Alphys helped you pick it out, and Mom helped you buy it, since most of your Ambassador’s salary is in savings until you’re eighteen. The eyepiece rigged to leave a pink ring around the viewer’s eye is your own touch, though.

Nobody else really understands why Sans seems like he’s fighting back tears as he calls you a nerd, even while he’s hugging you so hard that your feet leave the ground, but that doesn’t matter. He’s beaming so brightly he puts the stars to shame, and it’s the best gift you get that year.


	6. Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Frisk have a tradition in Shield Against the Dark. This is where it began.

“Cinq... quatre... trois...deux...un!” You throw up your hands as the microwave beeps. “Et voilà! De maïs soufflé!” You punch the door release button, and duck away from the cloud of steam that billows out toward you.

“ **you know it’s fancy ‘cause it’s french.** ” Sans ruffles your hair before reaching past you for the hot popcorn.

One advantage of having a brother without skin is that he never has to worry much about touching hot stuff in the microwave. He snags the steaming bag and tears it open, dumping the popcorn into the big bowl you have waiting, and you smile broadly at him. If you hadn’t gotten the bowl out, he’d just have taken the bag out to the living room, but that just gets the blanket all greasy, and he’s learning how much you hate that. “Merci!” you tell him.

“ **heh,** ” he says, and floofs your hair again, only getting a little bit of popcorn butter in it. “ **you’re getting pretty good at that, kiddo. must be the smarty specs.** ”

Giggling, you pull off the plastic frames you’re wearing and fold them neatly next to your workbook. They don’t actually do anything -- there’s no lenses in them -- but you’ve always found it easier to study with some kind of glasses on. This latest set of frames is courtesy of Alphys’ last dump run, but your family is always on the lookout for them. The rules of studying are simple -- specs on means you can only look at your books. Specs off is time for other things.

Like movie night.

Intercepting Sans’ hand before he can empty the bottle of ketchup he’s holding into the popcorn, you replace the bottle with a little shaker of ketchup flavour instead. One soggy bowl of tomatoey popcorn was enough to last a lifetime. “You really think I’m getting better? I mean, I know it’s important for an Ambassador to learn as many languages as they can, but after Sign and Japanese and Tem, I’m worried I’m running out of space in my brain.”

“ **nah, your brain’s plenty big. but that’s enough conjugating verbs for tonight.** ” He takes the bowl in one hand, and hoists you onto his back with the other. “ **you’re too tense.** ”

Clinging to him like a lemur, you giggle at the joke. “Hey, did you hear why my French tutor made me give back all my apostrophes?”

Sans pauses in the kitchen doorway to glance over his shoulder at you. Even Papyrus, on the couch in the room beyond, pauses in his examination of the remote to look up at your question, clearly affronted on your behalf. “ **no,** ” Sans says slowly. “ **why?** ”

“They made me too possessive!”

Sans dissolves into laughter. A moment later, Papyrus gives a disgusted moan and facepalms, inadvertently hitting himself in the face with the remote. “REALLY, BROTHER, YOU ARE A TERRIBLE INFLUENCE.”

“ **come on, papyrus, kid’s gotta learn about their skeleton heritage sometime.** ” Hefting you more securely into place, heads toward the couch. “ **you can patella they’re gonna be a little humerus just by looking at their bone structure.** ”

“THAT IS NONSENSE AND YOU KNOW IT.” Papyrus folds his arms. “IF ANYTHING, THEY SHALL BE GREAT AND TALL, LIKE ME!”

“ **come to think of it, you are getting a little heavy, kid**.” Groaning, Sans drops to his knees two feet away from the couch. “ **yeah, i’m about done here. this is good enough, right?** ” He pitches forward, only just getting the popcorn bowl out in front of him as he faceplants onto the floor in front of the couch. You bounce against his hood, and it startles a giggle out of you. “ **oh, hey, there’s pretzels under here,** ” Sans mumbles into the carpet as he stares under the couch.

Sighing, Papyrus leans down and grabs the back of your overalls, hoisting you onto the couch next to him. He flicks out a blanket, tucking it over your lap before retrieving the popcorn and handing it to you. “SANS, YOU CANNOT STAY DOWN THERE. YOU KNOW HOW I DESPISE IT WHEN IT’S THE BEST PART OF THE MOVIE AND YOU ARE NOT PAYING ATTENTION!”

From where you’re sitting, you see Sans’ hand wave over the edge of the couch before dropping out of sight again. “ **naw, i’m good down here, bro. i can see.** ”

“HONESTLY, BROTHER, I DON’T KNOW WHY I TOLERATE YOUR SHENANIGANS.” Papyrus leans over you and hauls Sans up onto the couch.

“ **because you love me,** ” Sans answers.

“WELL, YES, OBVIOUSLY. BUT STILL.”

Snugged between the two skeletons, you grab the blanket and stretch it out until it covers both of them as well. The action seems to mollify Papyrus somewhat; Sans puts his arm around you with a quiet, “ **heh. thanks, pal,** ” and steals some of the popcorn.

“ **so what’s on deck for tonight, pap?** ” Sans asks.

“I AM GLAD YOU ASKED,” Papyrus exclaims, gesturing at the TV with evident glee. “THE LISTINGS DESCRIBE THIS MOVIE AS A JOURNEY OF FRIENDS IN WHICH THEY ENCOUNTER A MYSTERIOUS GHOST.” He hugs the remote happily. “SO IT IS SURE TO BE A LIGHTHEARTED ROMP, POSSIBLY INVOLVING MUSIC AND/OR DANCE!”

Sans evades your attempts to block him and dumps more ketchup flavour onto the popcorn before you can wrestle the jar away from him. Sticking your tongue out at him, you put it in your pocket, but Sans just winks at you and takes another handful. “ **sounds good, bro. hit us up.** ”

Something about the video’s description nags at you, but between Papyrus bouncing in his seat on one side and Sans trying to steal all the popcorn on the other, the thought quickly slips from your mind. Instead, you settle for cramming popcorn into your mouth as fast as you can before Papyrus spills it or Sans eats it all.

“AH, LOOK, HOW WONDERFUL!!” Papyrus wraps an arm around you, too, snugging you even more securely between the brothers. “THIS GROUP OF FAST FRIENDS IS TRAVELLING TO A CABIN IN THE WOODS FOR THE WEEKEND.  WITH SUCH GOOD CHUMS IN SUCH A COZY SETTING, THIS IS SURE TO BE A HEARTWARMING TALE OF CAMARADERIE! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM SURELY THE CHAMPION OF CHOOSING MOVIES FOR MOVIE NIGHT.”

* * *

 About an hour later, all of you are having serious doubts about Papyrus’ choice. You’re not sure if the brothers are clinging to you, or if you’re clinging to them, but the three of you have moved into a huddled knot in the middle of the couch with the blanket pulled up as high as it goes. The popcorn bowl is on Papyrus’ head for added protection, since you got really upset when you noticed how far his head sticks up above the safety of the back of the couch.

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” Papyrus protests over the sound of the woman on the TV screaming. “WHY IS THAT GHOST SO ANGRY? WHAT DID THE HUMANS EVER DO TO IT?”

Sans glances down with a startled squawk as you crawl inside his hoodie. Patting you through the fleece, he glances at Papyrus. “ **hey, bro, maybe we should change it to something else?** ”

“PERHAPS YOU ARE -- AH, NO! I SEE NOW! OH, THIS MOVIE HAD US GOING, BUT LOOK, HERE COMES A FRIENDLY SKELETON TO CARE FOR THE HUMANS. DO NOT BE AFRAID, HUMANS! RUN TO THE SKELETON! FLY INTO HIS ARMS AND HE WILL -- WAIT… WHAT IS…? NO!!! THAT IS NOT A HAPPY WAY TO USE YOUR ARMS, SKELETON! AUGH, *WHY IS HE DOING THAT???*” Papyrus’ arms wrap tightly around you and Sans, though you’re not entirely sure if it’s in protest or demonstration. Possibly both. “BROTHER, WHAT IS WRONG WITH THAT SKELETON?”

“ **okay, that’s it!** ” Sans grabs the remote and hits the power button. As the TV falls silent, the sound of screaming is replaced by the ragged sound of your breathing. Sans rests a hand on your head. “ **i mean, that movie was terrible. what was up with those fx? you could practically see the strings on that puppet.** ”

“I--” Papyrus begins, but Sans jerks his head and Papyrus looks down at you. “OHHH! I MEAN, YES, WELL… TRULY THAT WAS LAUGHABLE. EVERYONE KNOWS THAT A TIBIA DOESN’T ARTICULATE LIKE THAT. PERHAPS THAT WAS THE INTENT.  REALLY, THAT MOVIE WAS A COMEDIC MASTERPIECE.”

“It was funny?” You poke your head out of Sans’ hoodie to look up at your brothers.

“ **hilarious** ,” Sans assures you.

“Right,” you say, and give a shaky laugh. “I wasn’t scared at all!”

“ **that’s the spirit, kiddo**.” Sans and Papyrus join you in laughter, but it fades fairly quickly as the silence of the house presses in on you.

“I… SUPPOSE WE SHOULD PUT THE HUMAN TO BED,” Papyrus ventures, and looks at you and Sans.

Nobody moves. Suddenly, the rest of the house seems a lot darker than it was an hour ago.

“ **yyyeah,** ” Sans says. “ **you know what? i’m good here.** ”

“Me too,” you say, hunkering more securely inside Sans’ hoodie. “I’m not scared. I’m just comfy.”

“AS AM I.” Papyrus hugs the two of you more tightly. “LET US DEMONSTRATE HOW COMFORTABLE AND NOT SCARED WE ARE BY SLEEPING HERE TONIGHT IN DEFIANCE OF ORDINARY BEDTIME CONVENTION! NYEH!”

* * *

 When Undyne bursts through the door the next morning with her customary bellow of “TIME TO GET UP, NERDS!”, she isn’t quite prepared for the amount of screaming and flying debris that rises up to greet her. When she manages to struggle to her feet after the barrage, she slowly lifts the popcorn bowl from where it has slipped over her good eye. Scowling, she tugs a bone out of her ponytail and flings it over her shoulder, before turning her glare on the three of you huddled together on the couch.

“Right,” she says slowly. “Which... one of you... THREW THE TV AT ME???”

“ **welp.** ” Sans slides off the couch, and you slip out of his hoodie and land on the carpet with a thump. “ **i’m goin’ to grillby’s. here, catch.** ” You let out a squeak as he scoops you up and tosses you toward Undyne. She lets out a screech, the popcorn bowl hitting the wall with a resonant clang as she chucks it away so that she can grab you out of the air. When you look back at the couch, Sans is already gone.

Shrugging, you reach up and wrap your arms around Undyne in as fierce a hug as you can manage. The more you hug like you’re trying to strangle her, the happier it makes her. “Morning!”

Undyne sighs, but relents and hugs you back, driving the air out of you. As you flop bonelessly against her, she stomps into the house and spares Papyrus one glance before she grabs him on her way toward the stairs.  “Come on. We can’t show up at the gym with you two smelling like popcorn and ketchup. What the heck happened to you, anyway?”

“Movie night,” you say. “It was screamingly funny.”

“NYEH-HEH! YOU CAN SAY THAT AGAIN.” Papyrus winks at you over Undyne’s shoulder.

“STOP AUDIBLY WINKING! I CAN HEAR THAT!!!.” Undyne dumps you both on the bathroom floor. “This is the last time you watch movies without me. Next time, Alphys and I get to come to movie night. And we’re bringing the punk’s parents!”

You and Papyrus exchange a look and clasp each other’s hands. Beaming, you look up at Undyne and chorus your response together. “DEAL!”

[Movie Night](http://hamstermastersamster.tumblr.com/post/135665863635/the-best-movies-have-a-twist-3-credit-once) by Hamstermastersamster (best birthday gift! <3)


	7. Troll Bridge

“--and so, you see, I don’t think I’m any more antisocial _per se_ than other monsters, it’s just that after spending my whole life underground, I’m finding all that _sky_ overhead is giving me the most awful anxiety.” The monster in front of you clasps his hands, entreating you to understand. You nod, and he takes that as encouragement. “I mean, there’s nothing _there_. What if gravity reverses and I just keep tumbling up and up and--” He breaks off, shuddering, and retreats more deeply into the shadows. With a sigh, he looks up at the metal girders overhead. “I suppose it’s in my blood…”

You reach into your shoulder bag and pull out your thermos. “Would you like some more tea?”

“Oh…” A scaled foot eases out of the shadows. “Yes, that would be rather lovely, thank you.” There’s a rattling in the dark, and a clawed hand bigger than you are emerges, clutching a hubcap daintily between two fingers.

You pour a good half of your thermos into the hubcap before pouring a little tea into the lid of your thermos for yourself. You can’t really address the gravity thing -- it’s not likely that everything is suddenly going to start falling up, but given what you know of monsters and magic, it’s not outside the realm of possibility, either. “It’s okay that you’re scared, Philip,” you say, and take a sip of your tea. “It’s a big step. But maybe instead of hiding under here all the time, try putting yourself on a leash. You can tie it to the ground when you go out, so even if you do fall up, you won’t go very far.”

The troll under the bridge freezes for a moment, then leans forward, close enough to the light filtering through the trusses that you can actually make out his enormous green eye (currently wide with concern) and the dozens of long, knife-sharp white teeth gleaming along the edge of his mouth. He peers up at the underside of the bridge, leaning out nearly far enough to see the sky before pulling back again, breathing hard. “Well, that _is_ a novel idea, but really, it’s quite cozy under here, and--”

A rumbling interrupts him, and you wrap your arms around the beam next to you as the girder you’re sitting on begins to shake. Clinging tightly, you brace yourself for the blast of air that threatens to knock you off entirely as the subway roars past overhead. A moment later, the shaking subsides, and you loosen your grip on the beam as Philip creeps back out from the depths of the darkness beneath the bridge.

“You made this place really pretty,” you say, gesturing at the bright paintings beneath the bridge that manage to shine even in the darkness. “But it’s not really much of a home. Don’t you get tired of that noise?” Digging into your bag again, you pull out a cookie and hold it out to him.

He takes it gingerly between the tips of two claws, and nibbles thoughtfully. “Yeeeess…”

“And if you came out, you could eat at that Caribbean place you like,” you add.

He sighs. “They do make the most wonderful goat curry.” But his dreamy look fades, and he shakes his head. “Oh, no, Ambassador, I couldn’t possibly. I am much too large, and that building is much too close to the sky.”

“But if you have a tether,” you insist, “even if gravity does go funny, you can just pull yourself back down.” You pull out your phone and thumb through your pictures until you find what you’re looking for. “Here. I got this idea today. These construction guys are working on a big building near the embassy, and there’s no walls or floor yet, but they use these straps here and these clippy things to make sure they don’t fall down. You could use ‘em to make sure you don’t fall up.” You zoom in on the harness one of them is wearing, and turn the screen toward him. “See? I tried to get some better pictures, but then they started yelling that I wasn’t supposed to be up there, and I had to go home.”

Philip leans forward to peer at the tiny screen, and this close, you can see your reflection in his gleaming teeth, which are the size of your entire head. You blink at your reflection, and look down at your clothes. Sans and Papyrus helped you get dressed today, which means you’re wearing everything that was at the top of the laundry basket. In this case, it’s an orange shirt with little white dogs all over it, a green hiking vest, purple pants, and a little yellow skirt overtop. Giving a satisfied nod, you smile. You like it when you get to be colourful.

Philip sighs, a torrent of air that smells like old pigeon and chocolate chip cookies, and you grab the beam again for support. “I appreciate what you are trying to do,” he says at last. “But what could I possibly have to offer the world out there?” He drops the rest of the cookie into his mouth and retreats back into the gloom. You can hear a mechanical scrape, followed by a ticking, and then an old merry-go-round crammed in the maintenance walkway beneath the subway tracks begins to turn. “It’s all right, Ambassador. Leave me to my tinkering. You have more important monsters to worry about.”

“Philip,” you say, reaching for him, but his hand is too far away from your girder. “You _are_ important!”

Before he can answer, your phone rings, and you can feel the blood drain from your face. You must look even worse than you feel, for Philip uncurls himself a little from his hunch, turning back toward you. “...Ambassador?”

You squeeze your eyes tightly closed. “I forgot I was supposed to go to my brothers’ house after school today.”

“Ahhhhhh.” His tail curls around his taloned feet as he wilts. “You are in trouble because of--”

You cut him off, sharply raising a finger in his direction. “If you start blaming yourself I swear I won’t bring you any more cookies!” He looks horrified, and shakes his head mutely as you tug your phone out of your pocket. “And don’t say anything about the bridge,” you add, checking the display and feeling your heart sink. Papyrus, at least, you could have distracted. Taking a deep breath, you connect the call.

“Hi, Sans.”

“ **hey, kiddo.** H o w ‘ s   i t   h a n g i n g?”

_Ohhhhhh. Oh no. He knows._

Your heart now somewhere in the vicinity of your boots, you look down.

The beam you’re sitting on isn’t very wide, and as you look past the dinosaur-dotted rubber of your boots, you have a clear view of the very, very long way down to the ground below. The subway bridge spans the top of a deep valley, carved out by the river beneath over thousands of years. On one side of the river, a path meanders beneath the steel arches of the bridge, and the path has two blobs on it that weren’t there before. Fairly certain already of what you’re going to see, you activate the phone on your camera, point it at the blobs, and zoom in as far as it will go.

Papyrus has his hands on his head, staring up at you with his mouth agape and his eyes practically bugging out from his head. Sans just looks as he always does, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the phone as he, too, looks up at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, quietly. “I got distracted.”

“ **yeah, so we noticed,** ” Sans says, making you wince. There’s an edge in his voice, and even though you know it’s because they were worried about you, it makes your heart sink. It drops even lower as Undyne pounds up the path behind them, Alphys trailing at a distance. They were all out looking for you.

“Why didn’t you call?” you ask.

“Oh,” Philip says, perking right up. “I believe it has something to do with the substantive amounts of metal in the structure of the bridge. The signal wouldn’t reach your phone unless it’s…” He thinks about it, and shrugs. “...well, directly below you.”

There’s a sigh on the other end of the phone, and you can hear Papyrus and Undyne yelling something in the background. “ **look, kid, whatever’s going through that head of yours, we’re not mad. just come down before one of us has a heart attack and we’ll talk it over, okay?** ”

You nod, not sure if he can even see you from that distance or not. “I’ll be right there.” As you zip the phone into your pocket, you give Philip an apologetic shrug. “I have to go.”

“I understand,” Philip says, and he does a very good job of hiding the sadness in his voice.

Digging through your bag, you pull out the bag of cookies and hold it out to him. “Here,” you say. “You need these more than I do.”

“Oh!” he exclaims in delight. “Why, thank you Ambassador!”

Smiling as he delicately picks through the cookies with his claws, you rise to your feet. “You’re welcome,” you say. “And you can call me Frisk.”

“Oh, oh no,” he says, though he’s clearly distracted by the baked goods. “That wouldn’t be proper at all.”

Shaking your head, you look down and move yourself into position. The steel girders criss-cross the underside of the bridge quite closely, but you’ve done this often enough that it’s easy to find the right way down. Making sure your bag is secure, you wave at Philip and step off the beam.

You think you hear a noise from below you, but you’re very high up, and you need to concentrate on what you’re doing. You skid down the curve of the next beam, and as you duck one to let it pass over your head, you reach out and grab it as you pass, using your momentum to fling yourself over to the next beam. Again and again you jump, and catch, and flip, until you finally run out of girders. This part’s a lot tricker, but the vines that have grown up over the featureless concrete bridge supports over the years are more than enough for what you need. You swing once and let go, dropping rapidly away from the girders. This time, you’re sure you hear a sound. The chorus of indeterminate yelling from your family is unmistakable. You stretch out your hands as you fall, reaching for the big vine that spans the two adjacent columns…and miss.

You’re not worried. This happens all the time, and there are tons more vines for you to grab on the way down, but the screaming below you intensifies. Your breath leaves you in a rush as your soul tears free of your body, and seconds later, the red glow of your soul is consumed by blue fire. Your descent slows, leaving you dangling halfway between the bridge and the ground, supported by nothing but the tingling touch of very powerful magic.

Nearly upside-down, you twist, intending to protest, but the words leave you at the sight of your friends. Papyrus and Undyne are practically pulling each other over in their race to get beneath you first, and Alphys, still a few feet behind them, runs as fast as she can, but her expression is horrified and helpless.

Sans stands behind them, feet braced and hand outstretched, and there’s real fear behind his unchanging grin. So you swallow your words as the angle of your descent changes sharply, and your reach for Papyrus as Sans drops you into his brother’s arms.

“OHO!” Papyrus holds you up triumphantly. “HOW FORTUNATE THAT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAPPEN TO BE SO SKILLED AT CATCHING THINGS!”

“ **yep. you’re the coolest, bro.** ”

You glance over Papyrus’ shoulder. Sans’ hands are back in his pockets as he rocks on his heels, and he winks at you when he sees you looking. He doesn’t seem like he’s mad, but you still feel bad enough that you cling to Papyrus, resting your head against his cape. Papyrus gives a soft, consoling sound, shifting you just enough that he can pat your back.

“Eh, the little punk was doing pretty good up until the whole falling part.” Undyne reaches up to pull a twig from your hair, tossing it over her shoulder. “So now I know what to add to your training roster!”

“Undyne--” you groan.

“FUHUHUHU!!! We’re gonna drop you off ALL THE THINGS! ALPHYS! BUILD THE THINGS!”

Alphys, who dropped to the ground, panting , the moment Papyrus caught you, looks up with a pained expression. “What, now? C-can’t we, you know, um…maybe stay here a little first?”

Undyne’s expression gentles, and she kneels next to the little scientist, resting a tender hand against her frill. “Alphys.”

Her cheeks reddening a little, Alphys leans into the touch, shyly tapping her fingertips together. “It’s just...it’s such a _nice_ day, and we found Frisk, and we’ve done soooo much running already...”

Cupping Alphys’ face in both hands, Undyne leans closer until their foreheads nearly touch. “Alphys…”

“Y--yes?” Alphys stammers, her face growing steadily redder.

“Babycakes…if you’re tired…”

“Y-yeeees?”

“THEN WE’RE JUST GONNA HAVE TO COME UP WITH A TRAINING PLAN FOR YOU, TOO!”

Alphys blinks, her face blank with shock. “Wait, what?”

Grinning fiercely, Undyne grabs Alphys and tosses her over a shoulder, her grin widening at the little squeak that startles out of Alphys. “Right. You two got things covered with the kid?”

Papyrus casts her an affronted look. “OF COURSE! THE DAY THAT THE GREAT PAPYRUS CANNOT CARE FOR HIS HUMAN IS THE--”

“Yeah, yeah, great. You guys take it from here.” She hoists Alphys more securely in response to the scientist’s feebly kicking feet..

“Uh, Undyne?” Alphys sighs. “Do you think we can maybe not train right now?”

“WHAT???” Undyne roars. “NO! IT IS TIME FOR YOUR EXTRA-SECRET PRIVATE TRAINING!” She tosses her hair and grins at Alphys. “You know, at home. Alone. Together.”

“Oh…” Alphys says, and her eyes widen suddenly. “Ohhhhh! Ooh! Uh, yeah! Yeah, I feel r-really, uh… _motivated_ all of a sudden. Let’s go t-train!”

Papyrus takes a step forward. “WAIT! THIS SOUNDS EXCITING! PERHAPS I SHOULD COME AS WELL!”

“NO!” Undyne and Alphys chorus together, stopping him in his tracks. As Alphys turns a spectacular shade of pink and curls her toes, Undyne plants her free hand on her hip. “You’re too good, Papyrus. Alphys needs some very _special_ training. It won’t interest you at all.”

“Yeah, uh, Papyrus, I d-don’t want to hold you back.” Alphys adds helpfully.

“Uh huh. There’s gonna be a lot of holding going on,” Undyne says, making Alphys giggle.

“WELL,” Papyrus says, looking dubiously at the girls. “IF YOU SAY SO…”

“ **welp. you two crazy kids have fun** ,” Sans says with a wave. “ **c’mon, papyrus. let’s get the kid home.** ”

At last, you part ways with Undyne and Alphys, and as Papyrus carries you down the path, you catch Alphys’ gaze and wave. Smiling, she returns the gesture, and soon Undyne has carried her far enough away that you can’t make them out any more. You drop your weary head down against Papyrus’ shoulder again, and let yourself bask in the warmth of him. Being held by Papyrus is like being wrapped in sunshine. You sigh softly against him, and he gives your back another comforting pat. Only once you’ve hugged it out does he set you down, and he takes your hand as you head for home.

It’s a beautiful day. The bits of wild and wetland on either side of the river have been left to grow unchecked, and though the trees are bright with reds, and oranges, and golds, the sun gently warms you as it filters through the leaves. The tall grasses, glimmering golden in the light, ripple and whisper with the furtive movements of insects and animals disturbed by your passing. You’ve spent long, long hours hunting for glimpses of them with Toriel; there are so many more of them here then you ever found in the months you spent with your mother in the Ruins.

As you walk, you glance at Sans, and your hand twitches, uncertain of your reception. But even though he doesn’t look like he’s watching you, he moves closer and picks up your free hand, and walking with a brother on either side makes your heart a little lighter, even if it does make people stare as you pass by. Sans winks at one passing jogger, making the runner stare so hard he crashes into a sign. Papyrus lets go of you long enough to pick the man up and hand him a card to Undyne’s gym, with the suggestion that a little training is all he needs and he’ll be running without falling over in no time. You smile and wave at the man as Papyrus rejoins you, but for the rest of the walk home, your head is full of heavy thoughts.

* * *

At first, you don’t think Papyrus notices anything. He’s his usual cheerful self as you work with him to prepare dinner, and he shouts at the TV just as emphatically as he always does when you watch a movie afterward. But when you excuse yourself before the credits even finish, he turns around on the couch to watch you climb the stairs, his face drawn with concern.

“HUMAN, I CANNOT HELP BUT NOTICE THAT YOU ARE NOT QUITE YOURSELF TONIGHT. YOU FLUNG THE TEST SPAGHETTI AT THE WALL DURING YOUR COOKING LESSON WITH ONLY A SMALL FRACTION OF YOUR USUAL ENTHUSIASM, AND YOU BARELY SHOUTED AT ALL DURING THE MOVIE. IS SOMETHING WRONG?”

Smiling fondly, you shake your head. “No, I’m good. Just tired today, is all. I just want to go to bed.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he looks at Sans, and the smaller skeleton covers Payprus’ hand with his own. Something tugs deep within you, and you turn and run up the rest of the stairs to your room.

You’re not sure how much time passes after that. You’re not crying, but you’re hugging your stuffed skeleton with all your strength, and as much as you love Arial, sometimes she’s just not the same as having the real thing. Which is probably why you left your door open, and why your heart lifts just a little when you look up and see Sans standing in the doorway.

“ **hey, kid,** ” he says, but he doesn’t move until you shift over on your bed. Only then does he come in and sit beside you, propping himself up against your headrest. “ **talk to me.** ”

“I’m trying,” you say, and it’s the truth. You promised him years ago that you wouldn’t keep stuff that’s bugging you inside, and you have no intention of breaking that promise, but sometimes it’s hard to find the words.

He taps a bony finger against your head. “ **big thoughts all tangled up again?** ” When you nod, he winces in sympathy, drawing one of his knees up so he can rest his arm against it as he looks down at you. “ **okay, let’s start with the basics. is this a frisk thing or an ambassador thing?** ”

“...yes,” you admit, and curl up around Arial.

“ **oh, man.** ” He sighs, rubbing his head. “ **all right, let’s start with work.** ”

Frowning, you smooth out Arial’s little dress as you think. She’s got a lot of clothes now thanks to Mom and Papyrus, and sometimes Sans. The dress is one of your favourites, and it’s often on Arial, regardless of whether it’s a day when Arial is he or a day when she’s she. You run your finger over the little heart embroidered on the front of the dress. “Do you think everybody stares at us because I’m the Ambassador, or because you’re monsters and I’m… not?”

“ **huh. honestly? probably a little bit of both, but i’m thinking there’s more of the first and less of the second than there used to be. you’re getting pretty famous, kiddo.** ” He gently shifts one of the curls that’s fallen across your eyes. “ **i know it’s annoying and all, but you usually just wave when people stare. i didn’t think this stuff got to you so bad.** ”

“It doesn’t, usually,” you say. “But I’ve been working _so_ hard this year to make things better between humans and monsters, and sometimes it doesn’t feel like I’m getting _anywhere_ . Like, Philip makes this _awesome_ stuff, you and Alphys would love it, and he’s letting it all rust under this bridge because he’s too scared of humans to come out.” You sigh. “Well, that and falling into the sky, but I can’t do anything about that one.”

“ **nah. altering the fundamental laws of the universe isn’t something you learn ‘till, like, high school, at least.** ” He winks when you look up at him, and rests a hand against your head. “ **look, pal, i know it seems like you’re running in place and not getting anywhere--** ”

“Like a treadmill?”

“ **yeah. i mean, those things are even more pointless than regular running -- reason number twelve why i won’t go anywhere near that gym no matter how many times papyrus asks.** ” You giggle, and he tousles your hair. “ **but, kid, things *are* better than they used to be. even i can see that.** ” Shifting, he laces both hands behind his head. “ **and maybe they’re just staring ‘cause they’ve never seen anyone as cool as my bro before.** ”

“I guess…” you say. There was a time, not long after you reached the surface, when people used to run away when they saw you coming with your family. Or yell. Or worse. Now they just look, or sometimes come and ask you for an autograph. Or a selfie. You had to turn your notifications off because they never stopped pinging, but the Embassy still monitors the social media stuff for you, and Artie says you’re tagged in an awful lot of photos with random people. “That still doesn’t help me convince Philip to come out, though.”

“ **is *that* why you were hanging out under that bridge instead of coming home like you were supposed to?** ” Sans asks.

Oh. Right. You’d forgotten about that. Groaning, you bury your head under Arial. “I’m so, _so_ sorry,” you say, your voice muffled by the toy.

Bony fingers pull Arial away from your face, and you squint into the sudden light from the bulb overhead until Sans leans over and blocks it. “ **kid, you don’t gotta apologize for doing your job.** ” He settles Arial next to you again. “ **just remember to call home first, okay? and maybe not throw yourself off any bridges.** ”

“I was going to be fine,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “There were more vines. I’ve done it tons of times before.” His quiet groan tells you that’s probably not what he wanted to hear, and your cheeks heat up as you curl around Arial again. “I got lots of practice running around on spider webs. I wasn’t gonna fall.”

Sans glances at you sharply. You don’t tend to talk much about some of the not-nice things that happened Underground with anyone, not even him, but you can tell he knows exactly how you got so much practice on the webs.

“ **look, buddy, i know that if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s getting yourself out of sticky situations,** ” he waits for your inevitable “nnngh” before continuing with a wink. “ **but tori wants you back in one piece, and i think all of us would be happier if you didn’t scare us to death first. ‘sides, you know most humans won’t understand.** ”

...oh. He’s right. You never even thought of that. It’s been a while since the people in suits kept coming around, asking questions, looking for a reason to take you away from your family. A flash of nightmare memory streaks across your mind like the afterimage of lighting, lights in the dark, blinding you, as hard hands drag you to the house at the top of the hill--

“ **whoa! kiddo! take it easy. breathe, now. c’mon. nobody’s taking you anywhere.** ”

You hadn’t even realized how desperately you were struggling to for air until Sans’ words pierce the memory, and it shatters like a soap bubble in the safety and comfort of your room. You force your hands open from where they’ve locked onto his hoodie, and you nod, drawing a deep, shuddering breath.

“ **that’s it. there you go. okay, so here’s my thought -- what say we get undyne to call muffet so she can give you some lessons and tell us when she thinks you’re good enough? that way you can keep doing your thing, we know you’re safe, you get some kind of certificate thing we can show all the human-types, and your mom won’t have to set anyone on fire.** ”

“That… that sounds good, I guess.” You peer up at him. “Why can’t _you_ call Muffet?”

“ **uhhh, yeah.** ” He shrugs. “ **cause undyne’s in change of your training. aaaaand maybe ‘cause the spider queen and i haven’t exactly been on great terms since back in the day. turns out she sees hot dogs as competition. who knew? but i’ll do it if i have to, okay? we’re gonna make this happen.** ”

His grin is so bright when he turns it on you, and yet, it hurts. He’s willing to do something that makes him uncomfortable just to make sure you can’t scare him again like you did today. His grin wavers as your eyes begin to sting, and he straightens in alarm. “ **whoa, hold up, what’s with the waterworks? we just fixed things, didn’t we?** ” There’s an edge of panic in his voice. All these years later, and you’ve seen him stay calm through floods and fire, but he still gets antsy when you cry.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper miserably. “I let you down. I try hard to be good, I really do, but today…”

A bony finger pokes you between your eyes. “ **oooookaaay, i think i know where that brain o’ yours is going, and i’mma put the brakes on you right there, kiddo.** ” He gives a small shake of his head. “ **we’ve been over this, frisk. nobody’s gonna send you away just ‘cause sometimes things go wrong.** ” Your lip trembles, the tears threatening to spill in earnest, and he opens his arms. “ **awww, kid, you know i can’t take it when you do that. c’mere.** ”

You don’t need him to tell you twice. Half-blind, you clamber over Arial and fall into Sans. He gives a quiet “ **ow** ” as your head whacks into his sternum, but he picks you up and pulls you closer, and you cling to him for dear life. “I’m sorry,” you whimper again.

“ **shhh. it’s okay, kid. it’s okay.** ” It’s not the words that matter. Not really. It’s the tone of his voice, rushing over you like waves over the shore. It’s the warmth of his arms around you as you hide your face against him. It’s the comfort in his touch as he pets your head, a gesture born years ago out of desperation that has become as familiar and as comforting as Papyrus’ cooking or your mother’s smile. You shudder, and his words keep coming, keeping you afloat. “ **you scared me, sure, but that doesn’t mean you let me down. it’s okay. you’re not going anywhere.** ” The soft movement of his hand against your hair echoes his words, driving them home, making them real. “ **there’s gonna be bumps in the road, but that’s okay. remember, i’ve lived most of my live with papyrus. if i bailed as soon as the going got tough, i never woulda made it past the year he got taller than me. seriously. he makes me *clean stuff,* frisk.** ” That last part is said with such weary disgust that it surprises a tiny laugh out of you, and you raise your head at last, your cheeks lined with red where they’ve been pressed against the ties of his hoodie. He smooths the marks with his thumb, and rests his brow against yours. “ **face it, shortpants, you’re stuck with us.** ”

You don’t ask him to promise. He hates making promises. But you do blink the tears away as you stare into the shadowed hollows of his eyes. “For real?”

“ **for real** ,” he agrees, and boops your nose. “ **now whaddya say we get papyrus in here and we’ll do an extra-long bedtime story. sound good?** ”

You nod eagerly, and Sans gives you one more big hug for good measure before he calls Papyrus upstairs. True to his words, and much to Papyrus’ delight, Sans reads through three chapters of _Serpentine_ (which you’re all enjoying, despite the fact that Papyrus can’t understand why the main character is so upset at finding out she’s secretly half monster) before you finally fall asleep, sandwiched comfortably between your brothers. Their warmth and their love keeps you safe, and you sleep soundly, untroubled by dreams.

* * *

When you wake again, the boys are gone, though someone’s tucked Arial snugly in with you. You blink sleepily, trying to figure out why you’re awake before your alarm, only to realize that you dozed off before you could set it. You look up at the door to find Sans leaning against the frame, grinning at you. “ **hey, sleepyface. i was getting worried we’d have to send you to school in your pjs.** ”

You glance down at the ones you grabbed out of the drawer last night. The shirt has a fluffy _T. rex_ on it with the words “WHO ARE YOU CALLING A CHICKEN?”, and fuzzy pants covered in a pattern of bones and feathers. “What’s wrong with my pjs?”

“ **nothing, kid. but you’re gonna want something a bit more rugged if you’re gonna be climbing around under bridges after school.** ”

You gasp and beam at him, and he nudges your shoulder as he climbs up next to you, eyeing your sticky-outy hair with amusement. “ **yeah, yeah, we made the call. you got your lessons. now do you feel like the little braids or a cool mohawk today?** ”

You hem and haw over the difficult decision long enough that Sans threatens to start in with the tickling, and the experimental prodding of your ribs has already begun by the time you manage to get your answer out through the giggles.

“ **yo, papyrus!** ” Sans calls.

“WHAT IS IT?” comes the aggrieved answer from downstairs. “I AM IN THE MIDDLE OF SOME VERY DELICATE CULINARY CALCULATIONS, HERE, SANS! THIS PASTA IS NOT GOING TO FIT ITSELF IN THE WAFFLE IRON!”

“ **kid wants braids today, bro!** ”

A clattering of pots echoes its way up the stairs, followed by the rapid thump of footsteps, and Papyrus bursts through your door. “NYEH HEH HEH! NEVER FEAR, TINY HUMAN! WE SHALL ENSURE THAT EVERY FOLLICLE IS-- AAAH!” He pats your head in dismay. “IS IT SUPPOSED TO KEEP GROWING *OUT* LIKE THAT?”

“I told you it’s getting curlier,” you mutter to Sans.

“ **it’s fine,** ” Sans says, already starting to section off the hair on one side of your head. “ **it’s just measuring how awesome the kid is. the poofier it is--** ”

“--THE MORE IT ACTS AS AN INDICATOR OF FRISK’S GREATNESS! I SEE! THAT IS VERY CLEVER OF YOU, FRISK!”

You raise a brow at Sans, but he just winks at you as Papyrus parks himself on your other side. Oblivious to the exchange, Papyrus tugs off his gloves before starting in on his own braid. You have no idea why, but neither brother can ever manage to produce two even braids on his own. The only way they can get them to come out looking the same is to have both of them working at the same time.

It doesn’t take long for them to finish; your hair’s not that long, and the skull hair ties they finish the braids off with brush the tops of your shoulders. You’ve been busying yourself by playing with Papyrus’ gloves, but before you have a chance to take them off and check the mirror, you feel something low and almost imperceptible prickle across your skin. You freeze, and make a grab for the brothers’ hands as dread creeps slowly over you.

“HUMAN?” Papyrus looks down at you, his brows drawn with concern. “FRISK, WHAT--”

Before he can say anything more, a low rumble echoes through the room, and the bed beneath you begins to tremble. You see movement, a flash of blue, and everything goes dark as the world attempts to shake itself apart around you.

Too much time passes. Or not much time at all. Your eyes are squeezed shut against the darkness and warmth surrounding you, and something muffles the roaring, but slowly, it fades, and the shaking stops. You open your eyes as the pressure around you eases, only then realizing that it’s dark because Sans has wrapped himself around you, his hand protectively over your head, pressing it against his shoulder. Papyrus slowly sits up on your other side, gradually releasing the hold he has on you and Sans both.

“ **welp,** ” Sans says into the sudden silence, making you jump. “ **that one wasn’t so bad.** ”

“NYEH!” Papyrus exclaims, shaking a fist. “I HATE THOSE WRETCHED EARTHQUAKES! THEY MAKE A MESS OF MY KITCHEN AND I ALWAYS HAVE TO RESET ALL MY PUZZLES IN THE YARD!”

Sans takes his hand off your head, resting it against your shoulder instead. “ **you good, kiddo?** ”

You nod, and jump again as your phone rings. Fumbling for it with Papyrus' gloves, you frown at the display, which is showing your secretary’s number. “It’s Kelly.”

Sans’ hand tightens on your shoulder as he glares at the phone. “ **she knows she’s not supposed to call you outside your embassy times, right?** ”

“Yeah. She does.” Giving up on the gloves, you cup the phone in them and bash it with your nose until the call connects. “Kelly?” you say, and blink at the barrage of words that slams into you from the other side of the call. “No, no I’m fine. I’m still getting ready for school.” You glance at the concerned faces of the skeletons on either side of you, and bite your lip. “Kelly, I have to go. I’ll call you soon.” Mashing your nose against the phone again to end the call, you stare at it, trying to stop your hands from shaking. “She wanted to make sure I wasn’t on the subway. One of the bridges cracked. There’s a train stuck.”

Drawing a deep breath, you pull off Papyrus’ gloves and hand them back to him. “Papyrus, I need my clothes out of the laundry, please.”

“OF COURSE,” he says, clutching the gloves tightly. “I SHALL BE RIGHT BACK!”

As Papyrus races from the room, Sans wraps his hands around yours, stopping them from shaking. You look up into the shadows of his eyes, and his hands tighten on yours. “ **just tell me what you need, kid.** ”

You stare at him as the pieces slowly click together in your mind, and the seeds of a plan begin to take root. “I need a shortcut,” you say, and tell him what you’re thinking.

A change comes over him. It’s subtle, but he shifts from your round, squishy, easygoing big brother into something very, very different. It’s not that his appearance changes at all from the way he normally looks. But something in the way he stands there watching you, in the angle of his brows and the set of his grin, makes you feel very sorry for anything that might get in his way.

Not for yourself though. Never that. He holds out his hand to you as Papyrus pounds back up the stairs, and there is no hesitation at all as you reach out and take it.

* * *

 Toriel has a way of pinching the bridge of her nose when she’s trying to figure out what to say that’s sometimes almost worse than getting yelled at. Almost. She’s very, very patient, but the nose pinch is there, making you wince.

“All right,” she says at last, lowering her hand so she can look at you. “I understand why you recruited this young troll -- forgive me…” she holds out an expectant hand toward the troll attempting to cower in front of her -- which is not easy to do when you’re ten feet tall.

“Um… Philip, Your Majesty,” Philip says, trying his best not to loom over your mother as he worries his tail in his hands.

“Yes, thank you. Why you recruited Philip to help you retrieve that imperiled subway and repair the bridge.”

“H-he really is amazing with engineering,” Alphys supplies helpfully. “I d-don’t think human crews could ever have gotten the car down on time, and h-he’s already made some f-fantastic suggestions for quake-proofing the other bridges, and--” she trails off, and her cheeks flush pink. “Um, he’s very good, is all.”

“God, you’re cute when you’re excited,” Undyne murmurs, and Alphys’ blush deepens.

Toriel sighs. “Yeeees, I can see all that. What I do not yet understand is why my child is _stuck_ to said clever young troll.”

“OH, THAT’S QUITE SIMPLE, MRS. KING!” Papyrus pipes up from somewhere near Philip’s left shoulderblade. You’re not sure exactly where, since you, Sans, and Alphys are much closer to Philip’s right hip. “YOU SEE, IT TURNS OUT THAT SPIDER WEBS ARE QUITE STICKY!”

Toriel plants her hands on her hips and raises a brow.

“That’s my fault, Mom,” you admit, looking down at her from where you’re glued to Philip. Or up at her. The fact that you’re mostly upside-down is confusing things. “Undyne was talking to Muffet about my training--”

“She’s got some great ideas, too!” Undyne interrupts.”I need to talk to you later about adding them to our gym classes, ma’am!”

“--and then the earthquake hit, but Philip is afraid of falling up--”

“Falling up?” Toriel asks.

Philip’s ears droop, and he hunches in on himself, prompting an angry exclamation from Undyne, who’s up near Papyrus. “You see, the sky is just so… _there_ , Your Majesty.”

“Ngggh.” Toriel’s pinching her nose again. “Yes, I see. Do go on.”

“--so I got the idea from those construction guys -- remember that one time you made them come to our class about respecting other people ‘cause they kept yelling stuff? -- I got the idea that maybe we could build Philip a harness out of the webs, and Muffet’s spiders helped, and it was going great! We got the subway unstuck and the bridge all set and then the aftershock hit and…” You swallow the words then, but Philip sighs and finishes for you.

“--and then I panicked, and the harness snapped.” He lets go of his tail to pluck at one of the strands near you. “I will admit that the elasticity of the web is much greater than I factored into my calculations.”

“Oooh,” Alphys says, testing it out for herself. “I bet this would work _great_ for some of the projects we’re working on.”

“ **and hey, now we know you’re not gonna fall up when the rope breaks.** ” Sans shifts aside some of the webs covering his face so that he can wink at Toriel. “ **not to make light of a weighty situation.** ”

Toriel manages to turn her snicker into a cough pretty quickly. “Yes, well. I suppose there is that. Now then…” She cracks her knuckles, and fire flares at her fingertips, and the lot of you mirror Philip’s cringe at the feral edge that creeps across Toriel’s expression. “Let us see about getting all of you _down_ …”

* * *

 In the end, though she has to call Asgore over from where he’s dealing with the press and the repair crews so that he can use his trident for leverage, Toriel manages to get everyone off of Philip and unstuck. Mostly. You’d been closest to Philip, holding his hand for emotional support, which meant you’d gotten an awful lot of web in the snapback, and a bubble bath seemed a much safer way to deal with the worst of it than fire. It’s weird having a bath with your clothes on, but until they get unstuck, you don’t have much of an alternative.

“So Philip’s gonna start his own business?” you ask, one eye closed against errant bubbles as Toriel scrubs your shoulder firmly with a bath brush.

“Yes. Miss Muffet has agreed to help him with some of the initial paperwork in exchange for exclusive provisional rights as his cabling provider, but I believe he will do quite well as an engineering consultant.” Toriel sits back on her heels, shifting some of the bubbles aside so she can see you properly. “However did you come up with the idea?”

“I talk to him a lot on my way home,” you tell her. “He’s really good at it, he was just too shy to tell anyone about what he liked to build.”

“Well, whatever you did, it seems to have worked wonders. He and Alphys haven’t stopped talking for two minutes, and I don’t think I’d ever heard more than two words out of that sweet young troll before.”

“He just needed to know people wanted him around,” you say, leaning away from the brush as she scrubs at your arm. “Then he likes to talk. I’m glad he’s gonna start working.”

“ **you gotta admit, ‘troll bridge’ has a nice ring to it,** ” comes Sans’s voice from deep within the bubbles next to you. “ **and with management like that, you know nobody’s gonna be *crossing* him.** ”

Toriel giggles, scrubbing harder, and with a few popping snaps, the last of the webbing sticking you to Sans finally gives way, sending him sloshing beneath the water. Your mother deftly plucks him out and shakes him a few times to get rid of the worst of the drips before setting him on the tiles. His slippers give a soft squish. “There, now. You can do the rest yourself.” Toriel holds up a finger. “Which you _will_ do before you touch anything else in this house! I do not want to be cleaning water stains off my chesterfield again, young skeleton!”

“ **what, my dry wit isn’t enough?** ” he asks.

Shaking her head with a fond laugh, Toriel waves him away. “Off with you, Sans. And thank you for _hanging out_ with Frisk again.”

“ **heh. good one, tori. and we were happy to help. it may have gotten a bit *shaky* there, but we managed to *stick* it out.** ” Sans salutes, and gives you a final wink before he wanders out the door. You watch him go, wondering if his bedroom here has its own bathroom. The one at his house doesn’t, but you still haven’t found where he sleeps in the Big House.

Toriel sets at you with renewed vigour, scrubbing the final clinging strands of web from your clothes and hair, and your thoughts dissolve into giggles until the webs give up the fight with the warm, sudsy water and dissolve. You cover your face as Toriel pulls you from the bath and rubs her hands together, bracing yourself for the blast of warm air as her magic swirls around you and whisks the damp away. Clean and dry, it’s easy enough to change out of your clothes and into the fresh pyjamas she has waiting. Then, you hold out your arms, and nestle against her as she scoops you up and carries you off to your room.

You’ve told her you’re fine, but that doesn’t stop her from looking you over once she sits you down on your bed, tsk-ing quietly as she finds an errant scrape and bathes it in healing green fire.

As she works, you wiggle your sock feet and sigh. “I’m sorry things got so messy at the end, Mom.”

Looking up from the hand she’s working on, Toriel smiles and moves to sit next to you. “I know, my dearest. I would have liked to have things resolved a little more _neatly_ , but I am proud of you.” She gathers you into her arms, and you snuggle against her, gently stroking one of the silky ears falling over her shoulder. She’s never minded the familiarity, and she knows how much it comforts you. “You helped a great many people today, including one very lonely monster who should not have been overlooked.” She pauses, and a gentle hand tilts your head up so that she can look into your eyes. “Oh, my child, have you been fretting all his time?”

You shake your head, smiling. “No. I’m going to try not to get so freaked out when stuff goes wrong any more. I know if it’s really bad, you’ll help me figure it out.”

“I think that is very wise,” she says, and nuzzles her nose against yours. “You are deeply loved, my little one. Your family will always be here for you. You know that.”

“I know.”

Your mother’s arms are safety, and warmth, and love, and as you breathe in the sweet smells of cinnamon and _home_ , you can’t help but smile. It’s going to be a long time before you can stop worrying about all the things that lurk in the edges of your mind, and some days you really understand Philip, wanting to hide under a bridge where it’s cold and dark but at least nothing can make it worse. You’ve been there, and there are some days that are a lot harder than others.

But days like this go a long, long way toward pulling you out of the dark for good.


	8. The Cat Came Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This needs a good edit, and I swear I will come back to do it. But what was meant to be a short character study turned into about thirty pages of comfort fluff, because it's me, and given the current global situation, I figured that some people might be needing comfort fluff about now (I know I do), and thought I'd go ahead and post it anyway, for those who don't want to wait. The ff.net post will go up with the finished, edited version, but for now, here you go.

“...AND SO, YOU SEE, THE HUMAN JUST NEEDED REASSURANCE IN ORDER TO FIND HIS COURAGE! WHICH I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, PROVIDED.”

Undyne tosses her head, swishing her ponytail over her shoulder.  The young man passing on the sidewalk who’s been staring at her as he approached your little group walks abruptly into a street lamp. 

“GRACIOUS,” Papyrus exclaims, stopping immediately to help the man back to his feet. “HUMANS DO HAVE A HABIT OF WALKING INTO THINGS. BUT DO NOT FEAR, CLUMSY HUMAN! I JUST HAPPEN TO KNOW OF A VERY GOOD GYM WHERE THEY WILL TEACH YOU HOW TO BE THE SORT OF STRONG, CONFIDENT, COORDINATED HUMAN THAT DOES *NOT* WALK IN TO ASSORTED UTILITIES!” 

He lacks pockets, but after he expressed admiration for yours, Mom made a bunch of pouches for his belt, to his immense delight. Reaching into one, he pulls out a card and presses it into the man’s hand. Blinking dazedly, the man wanders off, only narrowly avoiding being hit by a car at the last minute.

You glance down at the smaller skeleton next to you, and Sans glances back, with only a hint of fading blue fire playing around his fingertips. “ **...what?** ”

“Nothing,” you say, with a fond smile. His grin is unusually smug, but you know he’s not going to admit what he just did. The fact that he did it at all for anyone outside of the family is still a pretty big deal, even nine years after Barrier Fall.

“Okay, Papyrus, I love the fact that you’re so enthusiastic about the gym,” Undyne says. “Nice work with that guy just now, by the way.”

“I ALWAYS COME PREPARED!” Papyrus exclaims proudly. 

Undyne sighs. Probably sensing that you’re not going to be moving any further for a while at least, Sans goes to lean against the side of the building that opens into an alley, tucked neatly out of the way of passing pedestrians. Since the skeleton and the fish monster arguing in the middle of the sidewalk are already making it hard enough for wary humans to move past, you follow. The least you can do is get out of the way.

“Yeah, Papyrus, I get that, but you’re the MASCOT, NOT A TRAINER.”

“I TRAIN FRISK!” Papyrus protests. “I’M GOOD AT THAT.”

“Yeah, you are. You’re the best,” Undyne counters, planting her hands on her hips. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you TOOK AARON’S CLIENT! HE HAD A PROGRAM!”

“BUT MY PROGRAM IS BETTER!”

“I don’t understand why she just won’t promote him to trainer,” you sigh, leaning your head against the bricks behind you as the argument continues.

“ **you really think that’ll stop him from poaching the other trainers’ clients?** ” Sans counters.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Okay, fair point. It’s not like he doesn’t have enough jobs already. I have  _ one _ outside of school and I’m struggling with it all the time. I don’t know how he does it.”

“ **cool guy like my bro can find a way.** ” Sans pokes you in the ribs, startling a giggle out of you and gaining your full attention in the process. “ **you doing okay, kid? the new human ambassadors behaving themselves?** ”

“Oh, yeah,” you say with a wave of your hand. “They’re fine. Everybody we’ve got for the overseas embassies really seems to get that humans and monsters can make each others’ lives better, and nobody’s super-hung-up on protocol.” A brief flashback to when you were nine makes you shudder, and you shake it off. “There’s just a lot to do. And then there’s training, and school, and all my lessons…” You trail off, watching a group of kids your age passing by across the street. They don’t go to your school, but they’re looking at the monsters in your group with curiosity and delight rather than the fear and derision that was so prevalent even a few years ago. It’s progress, at least. But you watch them as they move off, laughing, two girls holding hands as one boy leans in to kiss another girl, and something twinges within you.

“ **frisk?** ”

You startle, tearing your gaze away to meet Sans’ look of concern. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. I just sometimes wonder…” You look at the others again, and sigh. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

“ **somehow i doubt that,** ” Sans says, but he lets the matter drop as he peers into the alley. “ **hey, what’s wrong with that dog?** ”

You lean over, looking over his head into the shadows. It’s a narrow alley, and dark, but still open enough that it doesn’t bother you too much. Squinting, you finally spot what he’s looking at. A coalescing of the shadows, black upon black, you almost can’t see it at all until it lifts its head and peers at you with brilliant green eyes.

“It’s a cat,” you tell him.

“ **huh.** ” He scratches his head. It surprises you a little, but you suppose that there weren’t really a lot of cats in the Underground, with the exception of the hot, edible kind. There was Catty, but she’s not exactly a typical housecat, and though you’ve seen them in movies and tv since you moved in with the family, you suppose Sans hasn’t had a lot of opportunities to run into the real thing. “ **what’s it do?** ”

You move past him into the alley and kneel down, aware of his shadow falling across your back as he follows you. You hold out a hand to the black cat, who approaches with all appearance of interest only to turn her tail in flagrant disdain when you reach out to pet her. But when you drop your hand, she turns back with an indignant mew.

“Be contrary, mostly,” you answer with a smile. “They’re not like dogs. You can’t walk ‘em, they’ll either flop down or run away. They’re nice for petting, but usually on their terms. If you feed them, and clean up after them, and play with them if they want it, they’ll usually be pretty sweet and cuddly. Except sometimes you can do all that stuff, and they still hate you.” You shrug. “Cats are weird.”

“ **so what do they spend all day doing?** ” Crouching next to you, he holds out his hand. The cat sniffs at it delicately before shoving her head with insistent force beneath his fingers. 

“Sleeping and eating. Usually somewhere inconvenient.” 

He gives you a surprised look before turning his attention back to the cat. “ **...i think i like this lazy dog.** ”

“Well, she seems to like you,” you say. A noise from the street echoes off the alley walls, and your eyes widen as you glance over your shoulder. “Oh, come on, not here.” Gaining your feet, you hurry back to attempt to pull Papyrus out of Undyne’s wrestling hold. There’s no danger of her hurting him, but they’re now completely blocking the sidewalk and it’s attracting a crowd. It takes a goodly amount of struggle, and dodging, and you get pulled into the pile for a few minutes before you manage to extricate yourself, but you finally get them apart again, panting as they slap each other good-naturedly across the back and congratulate each other for a particularly rousing and energetic business discussion. Only then does Sans show up again, hands nonchalantly in his pockets, and you roll your eyes in exasperated affection as you follow Undyne and Papyrus up the road.

* * *

 

The first time you notice that something is amiss is when you come home from school to find the note Amrita passed you in class yesterday sitting in the middle of your skeleton rug. Amrita is a newer transfer to the school, and still doesn’t get that talking in class is encouraged. You pick up the note, skimming over the familiar contents.

> MY FRIEND ERIK LIKES YOU. DO YOU LIKE HIM? 
> 
> NO 

There had been a “Yes” followed by another check box, but that part of the note is missing, and the ragged edge is framed by tiny, needle-like holes. Frowning, you fold up the note and put it on your bedside table. Amrita was a little annoyed by the fact that you didn’t pass the note back, but you’d told her that even though you’d only met Erik in passing a few times as he didn’t go to the school with you, he seemed perfectly nice and you liked him just fine. But you’d kept the note, never having had one passed to you by a schoolmate before, and you wonder what happened to it. Maybe the house is getting mice. They always were very determined.

After that, the signs continue to accumulate. Papyrus is baffled by the scratches scored deep into the legs of the table in the kitchen. Your right socks go missing, and you find assorted odds and ends, like bottle caps and Sans’ socks, stuffed into your shoes. The laundry in the baskets never stays folded for long, and you find your homework in pieces, to Toriel’s annoyance. There’s no penalty for lateness, of course, but having to do it again is very frustrating.

About a month after the day in the alley, it all comes to a head. You never turn on the lights in the hall once Sans has actually managed to get Papyrus to sleep, so as you stumble down the hall toward the bathroom, navigating by the moonlight through the hall windows, you can’t be blamed for starting at the streak of shadow that dashes in near-perfect silence across the puddle of moonlight in front of you. 

Before you can do more than open your mouth to scream, bony fingers clamp firmly around your wrist, and with a sickening wrench, you’re plunged into a disorienting realm of shadow and cold, where up is down and down is up and there are whispers and hands reaching from the void--

\--and you’re in Sans’ room, and the very sheepish skeleton is looking up at you in weary resignation.

“ **easy, kiddo,** ” he tells you as he lets go of your hand.

You’ve regained your breath, but his reassurance leaves you less inclined toward screaming, and you give him the eye instead. “Sans, what’s going on? What was that?”

“ **nothing to be scared of, honest,** ” he says, his hands defensively in front of him. “ **just didn’t want you waking up papyrus, is all.** ”

You can’t argue with that, so you’re a little more kindly disposed toward him as he lifts up the blanket on the edge of his messy bed and gestures at you. You know that monsters under the bed are a thing now, but never in the houses of monsters themselves, so you have no idea what to expect when you drop to your knees to peer underneath.

It certainly isn’t the green eyes staring back at you.

Sitting back on your heels, you look up at him in disbelief. “Is that the cat from the alley?”

Scratching his head sheepishly, he leans against the bed and nods. “ **uhh… she followed me home?** ”

“As weird as it is for me to be the reasonable adult here,” you tell him, “this is a big responsibility, Sans.”

“ **i can handle responsibility,** ” he protests, looking a little affronted. “ **i did fine with you, didn’t i?** ”

You can’t fight the fond smile that sneaks across your face, and after a brief struggle out of principle, you stop even trying. Instead, you rise from the floor and perch on the bed next to him. “You did,” you tell him. “But I can tell you what’s wrong if I need something. And I clean up after myself in the bathroom.” At his alarmed glance, your smile broadens. “Cats are work.”

He stares at you, stricken, and you hold out as long as you can, but eventually, you give in to laughter, shaking your head. “Okay, okay, I’ll help you out. But you have to tell Papyrus.”

“ **course i’ll tell him** .” Sans reaches out to tousle your hair. “ **eventually.** ”

Sighing, you drape yourself across the bed so that you can look underneath it again. The cat stares imperiously back at you, immensely affronted that you have the audacity to stare at her. Her black on black fur let her blend alarmingly well into the shadows; only the green of her eyes stands out against the dark.

“ **i’m calling her cooper** .”

* * *

 

“...AND SO YOU SEE, HUMAN--” You duck as Papyrus gestures emphatically with his wooden spoon. “--THERE IS NO FOOD THAT CANNOT BE REDEEMED BY ITS INCLUSION IN SPAGHETTI.”

You give the steaming pot a wary look. “I don’t know, Papyrus. Natto spaghetti?” The whole things smells like sweaty feet and despair, not that Papyrus seems to mind. Your nose wrinkles. You know it’s a part of your heritage and all, but you think you can give it a pass. Beignets and waffles are also a part of your heritage, and you’d MUCH rather be having them right now. Pity the waffle iron is still clogged with spaghetti.

“OF COURSE,” Papyrus insists. “IF YOU WOULD JUST TRY IT, YOU WOULD SEE THAT-- THAT--” His brow furrowing in irritation, Papyrus plants his hands on his hips and glowers at the door. “WHAT IS THAT INFERNAL RACKET?”

You can hear it too, now. A faint jingling sound, growing closer, and closer, until Sans pokes his head in the door to appraise the scene within. “ **oh, hey, you two. still noodling around?** ”

“SANS, YOU MIGHT BE LESS LAZY IF YOU TOOK NUTRITION MORE SERIOUSLY,” Papyrus says, trying and failing to hide his irritation at Sans’ joke. “AND WHY ON EARTH ARE YOU JINGLING?”

Sans blinks at his “ **why am i-- oh, hey, look at the clock. it’s way pasta time for me to be at work. see you ‘round, bro.** ”

“WAIT, SINCE WHEN DO YOU WORK?” Papyrus demands, his brow furrowing.

“ **step into my office a minute, kid.** ” Before you have a chance to answer, his hand locks around your wrist, and reality shifts beneath you. When you blink, clearing the shadows from your vision, you’re standing in his room, staring at him as he takes a step back. 

A giggle bursts from you, and you cover your mouth quickly with your hands. “Sans,” you ask slowly. “Why are you jingling?”

With a pained look, he lifts the hem of the shirt he’s wearing. It always unnerves you a little, to see the bone that lies beneath that soft, huggable squishiness that is Sans, but you’re too distracted to be unsettled for long at the sight of the bright red ball lodged between his ribs near his spine.

“Is… Is that a cat toy?” you ask in disbelief, kneeling so you can get a closer look.

“ **i’m having a real ball here, buddy, now can you please get it out?** ”

You look back at his face, and his expression darkens as you fight the smile that’s threatening to betray just how much you’re enjoying this. “So the whole telling Papyrus thing…”

“ **i’m waiting for a moment that won’t make him cat-atonic** ,” he says. “ **it’d be easier if that annoying dog would stop showing up. i think that’s why cooper spends so much time in here.** ” He gestures to his ribcage. 

“Mmm,” you agree, giving the ball an exploratory prod with your finger. “It does feel pretty safe in there.” You draw your hand back quickly when he hisses, looking up in alarm. “I’m sorry, did that hurt?”

“ **Nah, i’m feline fine.** ” He says with a wink. At your raised eyebrow, he adds, “ **it doesn’t hurt, exactly. but that is seriously weird.** ”

“Okay,” you tell him. “Brace yourself.” As quickly as you can, you grab the ball and yank it out from between his ribs. Sans endures the ordeal with little more than a stifled “ **hrnk!** ”, but as soon as you toss it down on the carpet, a black paw darts out from beneath the bed and bats it back into the depths. You sit back on your heels, folding your hands in your lap. “You know that’s just going to end up back in there, right?”

He drops cross-legged to the carpet next to you. “ **probably.** ”

“You know that cats are pretty much impossible to train, right?”

He snorts, leaning back on his hands. “ **i knew there was a reason i liked her.** ”

The black paw shoots out again, snagging the dangling end of one of his sneaker laces and deftly undoing the bow. His foot jerks a few times in response to the tugging from beneath the bed, inching slowly closer to the concealed feline. 

“FRISK?” The anxious call drifts up from downstairs. “I AM NOT PRECISELY SURE WHAT IS HAPPENING, BUT I THINK THE SPAGHETTI MAY HAVE BECOME SELF-AWARE. I DO NOT THINK IT IS VERY HAPPY.”

“ **sounds like a real cat-astrophe,** ” Sans says, grinning at you. “ **better get moving, kiddo.** ”

You nod, but instead of standing, you lean forward and wrap your arms around him. He’s not expecting it, but there’s only a small pause before he holds you back. “Do your shoes up before you come downstairs,” you say quietly. “I don’t want you to fall.”

His answering snort is derisive, but there’s a fond affection in the way he pats your back. “ **who’s the grown-up here?** ”

“Sometimes I wonder that, too,” you answer, and he meets your grin with a laugh before you leave to rescue Papyrus from the angry spaghetti. But you glance back from the doorway, and Sans has taken off his shoe. He dangles it before the bed, tugging it out of the way in response to the batting paws, and his soft, private laughter brings a sweet and gentle ache to your heart.

* * *

 

“Psst. Frisk.”

Pulling your gaze away from the latest team challenge on the field, you tilt your head as Amrita furtively pushes a paper toward you. “Why are you whispering? It’s okay to talk during class. That’s how learning happens.” 

You don’t really understand the pained look she gives you in response, but she shifts a little closer anyway. “Just read it.”

> DO YOU WANT TO HANG OUT WITH ERIK AFTER SCHOOL?
> 
> YES      NO

“Why do we need a note?” you ask her. “Can’t I just tell you?”

Amrita lets out a low groan, her head falling back in defeat. “Sometimes you are so...so….Frisk.”

“Oh,” you say, and hug her fiercely. “Thank you!”

The look she gives you in return is a familiar one, though you haven’t seen it a lot lately. You saw it a lot when you were younger, though. Especially during the days when you lived with your aunt. Everyone would always ask you how you were, and you’d tell them you were fine, but they’d give you that look, and it would make you afraid, because if perfect strangers looked at you and saw the sadness in your eyes, then your aunt might see it too, and as your cousin never failed to remind you, no one wanted an unhappy child.

But you know better now. Your family -- your  _ real  _ family -- has proved that time and time again, and for all that the nagging voice in your head is a persistent one, that knowledge is a shield against it. You’re not lying -- you  _ are _ happy, even if there are shadows in your eyes. Well, for the most part, anyway. But those shadows are as much a part of you as your skin or your hair, and you’ve long since learned how to live with them.

“Okay, punk, GET UP HERE!” 

Undyne’s bellow forces your attention back to the field. Her arms are crossed as she looks at you expectantly, wearing her coach’s uniform with as much authority as any suit of armour. Behind her, the losing team sprawls across the ground, defeat written in every line of their bodies. 

Sighing, you push yourself to your feet and make your way onto the field. The closer you get to Undyne and the winning team, the more their expressions of smug triumph fade to uneasiness, uncertainty, and outright fear. Turning your back on them, you give Undyne an entreating look, but she just rolls her eyes at you. Besties or no, she’s uncompromising when it comes to her coaching, and the winners of this latest sparring match have made one of the worst mistakes that unwary students can make around Undyne.

Unsportsmanlike behaviour.

“So,” she says, casually examining the wickedly sharp nails on one hand. “You think that being good at something means you’ve got a right to make other people feel bad?”

They all know better than to say anything, but it’s too late. Their silence can’t save them now. It’s not that they cheated -- they beat the other team fair and square -- but they gloated. And not in the way that Undyne does. In a way that made one of the boys on the losing team cry. She can’t let this lesson go untaught.

She grins at them, showing teeth, as she rests her hand on one hip. “Right, then. Your mission is to attack Frisk until you can’t anymore.”

The proclamation is met with a chorus of groans, but nobody would dare disobey and risk facing Toriel’s “I’m very disappointed in you” speech. Letting Toriel down after she put her faith in you is just about the worst thing anyone at the school can possibly imagine, and it’s reduced more than one student to tears and promises to make her proud. Instead, the students gather up their beanbags into their satchels and arrange themselves on the other side of the line from you. Undyne turns, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and moves to the sidelines to clear the field. But as she passes you, she rests a webbed hand briefly on your head and murmurs “show ‘em how it’s done, punk.”

You nod once, shortly, and drop to one knee. As the fingers of one hand dig into the grass that covers the field, you close your eyes and breathe deeply, sinking down to the pool of calm at your core. The process is not quite the same as when you used to fight -- your soul stays firmly inside you where it belongs -- but when you open your eyes, the world focuses with the same black and white clarity that always carried you through your encounters in the underground. And when Undyne’s whistle echoes across the field and you launch out of your crouch toward the opposing team, the fear on their faces is as familiar as that on the trembling monsters that had faced you when you were a child.

At least, as with the monsters, it’s getting better. Someday maybe they won’t look at you like that at all.

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, you stand alone on the field. The other team is scattered around you, and at least one of them has been sick, much to Woshington’s displeasure. The school’s lead custodian isn’t quite as unforgiving as his cousin Woshua, but he’s still grumbling as he directs his crew in the cleanup.

The students that had been on the losing team, at least, seemed to be enjoying the former winners’ defeat as Undyne saunters over. She rests an elbow on your shoulder as she looks down at the new losers. “So as you can see, winning a fight doesn’t actually make you  _ better _ than anybody.”

“I don’t understand!” one of them whines softly. She’s one of the few still able to talk through the gasping. “She didn’t hit us once. All she did was move around and talk to us. Why am I so  _ tired _ ?”

The grin drops from Undyne's face and she sinks into a crouch next to her exhausted students. “Because fighting  _ is  _ tiring,” she says. “Anger and hate are tricky things. They have their place. They can help you in the short term. They can help you do the impossible when they’re helping you protect the people you love. But if you let them plant their seeds inside you, they will eat you up and hollow you out and leave you with nothing. Frisk is very, very good at this, and that’s ‘cause they’ve had way more practice than you, but if they were getting mad every time, I can promise you that things wouldn’t have turned out this way today.”

The other students are watching her now. Not just the ones who were just fighting you, but the others on the sidelines as well. She sighs, brushing the red bangs more firmly off her face before reaching out to her weary student. “Understand now?”

“Yes, Coach,” the student says, taking Undyne's hand and letting her pull her up to sitting. “I think I do.”

“Just be glad you got the talk from me and not Coach Papyrus,” Undyne says. “He’d still be going. And there’d be songs involved.”

The others are smiling now, but there’s fondness in the expressions. Papyrus is a favourite amongst the students, and they all know firsthand the truth in Undyne’s words. As you help the stragglers to their feet, they clap you on the shoulder, and their choruses of “good game” are earnest enough. But you linger as they head to the change rooms, lost in thought until a shadow falls over you, and strong arms wrap around you and pull you close. You’ve grown a lot over the years, but Undyne still towers over most humans, and there’s strength and shelter in her arms as you rest your head against her chest. With a quiet sigh, you let your worries go.

“You know you don’t have to keep doing this,” Undyne says softly. As she moves her hand to stroke your hair, the latest friendship bracelets you made slide down her wrist, their colours bright against her dark scales. “Some of the other kids are getting good enough that we could have them do it once in a while. I could talk to Artie.”

You smile against her, shaking your head. “Artie’s good, but if we pull them away from mentoring with Alphys to do this, neither one of them’ll ever forgive us.”

Undyne shudders a little at the thought. “You’re probably right. Still.” She takes you by the shoulders, her good eye soft with concern as she watches you. “If it’s hurting you, I can come up with a new lesson plan.”

You stare down at the grass, still dusted with powder from the beanbag missiles. Not everybody gets this particular lesson -- all education, even gym class, is individually tailored to the students. You have almost never been on the side of the attackers, for example. But you think you can see some of the common threads that tie together those who are. “They learned something important today, didn’t they?” 

“I think so,” she says, still watching your face. 

“Then I’ll be fine,” you answer, resting your hand against hers. “Really.” 

She rolls her eyes and grabs your head, yanking you back against her. “Get over here before you make me all snotty,” she says, with a rasp in her voice. “Dork.” 

Laughing, you return the hug with interest. “Thanks, Coach.” 

All of your friends find it varying degrees of difficult to talk about what they did to you when you first met, but Undyne has always struggled the hardest. Instead, she voices her feelings in the volume with which she advocates for you, be it at school or at the embassy, and in the strength of her hugs in these rare moments that you get to spend time together. She can see that you’re getting worn down, and you know that all you have to do is say the word, and she will do anything in her power to fix it. The problem is, you still haven’t figured out exactly what it is that’s wearing you down.

* * *

 

“Hey!”

You and Artie turn at the shout and watch as a strange boy runs across the lawn toward you. Shifting out of the way of the students streaming out of the school, you wait in the shade of the skeleton topiary as he comes to a stop in front of you, red-faced and slightly breathless. 

“Uh… Frisk, right?” The strange boy gives Artie a wary glance, but that’s not uncommon from kids who haven’t spent a lot of time around monsters yet. But when you spot Amrita watching from across the lawn, you realize who this must be.

“Hi. Erik, right?” you ask. Artie snickers, and you elbow them in the side as the boy turns even redder.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he says. “Um...hi.”

“Hi,” you say, tilting your head at him. “You’re one of the kids who was watching gym class, weren’t you?” It’s not uncommon for gym classes at the Co-operative School to attract an audience from the community, and Toriel encourages other teachers and students to come observe the school’s methods. But his was an unfamiliar face at the fence today, and it still bothers you that there are faces you don’t recognize.

“Yeah,” he says, brightening. “You were amazing! How do you do that?”

“Practice and ballet class,” you answer with a shrug. “You get used to dodging a lot.”

“Oh, you like dancing, huh?” 

“Ungh, here we go,” Artie murmurs, their breath leaving them in a rush as you elbow them. Snickering, they excuse themself and limp off, leaving Erik staring after them with bewildered relief. 

“Sooo,” he says, looking back to you as he shifts in place. “Do you want to...hang out or something?”

The response that rises to your lips is a flippant one, involving spiders and webs and very high bridges, but you check yourself, biting it back. You still have the image in your mind of those kids across the street on the day Sans found Cooper. The joy on the faces of the girls holding hands. The warmth with which the boy wrapped his arm around the girl. The strange feeling beneath your breastbone -- you wouldn’t call it longing, exactly. That’s not quite right. But there’s definitely an element of envy there. It might be nice, to know what that feels like. But if school has taught you anything, it’s that if you respond to a new human friend the way you would to a monster, they often find it strange, or even frightening. 

So you bite back the words that you want to say, and smile at him. “I’d like that.”

* * *

 

“ **soooo** ,” Sans drawls, dropping to the floor so that he can lean against your bed and look up at you. “ **you and this Erik kid. what’s that about?** ”

You shift one of the textbooks in the pile surrounding you so that you can see him more clearly -- you don’t get assigned homework at the school, but you’re really interested in your research project on alternative models of government throughout human and monster history, and you’ve been bringing it home with you -- and you raise a brow at him. “Why do you smell like fish?”

He sighs wearily. “ **undyne and alphys found out about cooper. they’ve been bringing treats. cooper likes to save them for later. you’re ducking the question.** ”

“I’m not ducking anything, it’s just really potent.” You slither off the bed to drop down next to him, and even though you’ve been falling off of things for more than half your life, he still reaches out to steady you. You smile at him in fond thanks, but it’s still not getting him off the hook. “C’mon. No stinking up my room.” You gesture at his shirt.

His amused snort is his only protest as he obligingly tugs up the hem of his shirt. Instantly, the stink doubles. Trying not to gag, you lean in and find the culprit wedged between two of the vertebrae in his lower back. 

“Wow.” You carefully reach for the little dried sardine, but it’s stuck tight. “She really got it in there.”

“ **i knew there was something fishy about that feline,** ” he says, and shrugs when you groan at him. “ **c’mon, you’re just mad i beat you to it.** ”

He’s not wrong, and it makes you laugh as you lean in closer, carefully prising the fish out from between his vertebrae. It’s slow going, as you’re trying to make sure nothing breaks off while you do it, and it’s slower still as you get a good look at the bones you’re working on. You very rarely see this part of him unless you’re on a family trip to the beach, and it’s a reminder that you’re not the only one in the family who bears the shadows of your past on your bones. As you work, his hand comes to rest on your head. It’s an absent, unthinking gesture, born of familiarity, but it comforts you all the same, and your fingers steady as you work the fish out from between the bones.

“ **so. this kid?** ”

You let out your breath in a huff, blowing the hair from your eyes as you do so. “You know you’re worse than Mom, right?”

“ **i know, i know, i’m a tyrant. would you quit being a teenager and spill already?** ”

“We’re friends.” You shrug, and catch your breath as the fish moves another centimetre. “I like spending time with him. He’s nice and he makes me laugh, but it’s not like when I spend time with… I dunno, you. It feels different, but I’m still trying to figure out exactly  _ what _ it feels like.” You close your eyes for a moment, and the breath you need to take has little to do with the redolent fish inches from your nose. “The monster stuff is easy now. I’ve got a handle on that. But human stuff… I’m still trying to figure all that out. I know who Frisk the child of monsters is. I’m still not sure about Frisk the human.”

With a final, gentle tug, the fish finally pops free, and you hold it up with a triumphant cry. An instant later, a dark streak snatches it from your hands and vanishes beneath the bed. A tail tip pokes out from the shadows, twitching in smug triumph. You brush off your hands and leave Cooper to it. “Well, she stole it back fair and square. Just don’t let her put it back there.”

“ **like i’ve got a choice. you were right about her not listening to anyone.** ”

“Of course I was,” you retort, prodding him in the ribs as he tugs his shirt back into place. “If there’s one thing I  _ did _ learn before I Fell, it was kitties.” You grin as a memory surfaces, bathing you in the warmth of a long-forgotten kitchen and the smells of foods you have never really been able to duplicate. “Mama had this statue in the kitchen, and it was doing this--” You hold up one hand to demonstrate, and freeze as the dual edge of the memory comes back to cut deep into your heart, and even after all this time, it still has the power to steal your breath and leave you trembling.

Sans’ hands wrap gently around your upraised one, and that touch drags you through the storm and out the other side. When you can focus again on his face, kindness and regret flicker through the dark hollows of his eyes. “ **just remember, kiddo,** ” he tells you, running a hand over your head. “ **figuring stuff out is all well and good, but you don’t have to do it alone.** ”

An emphatic “mew” from beneath the bed startles a laugh out of you, and you sink back against the bed until you can lean your head against it. “I won’t forget,” you tell him, watching the clouds drift past the skylight above you. “I never do.”

“ **i question that sometimes,** ” he says drily, but he puts his arm around you. 

Smiling, you shift until you can rest your head against his shoulder instead of the bed. Somehow, no matter how big you get, you can always figure out a way to fit against him in moments like these. The day you’re too big to go to Sans for comfort is the day you’re truly lost.

* * *

 

You barely have time to yank Artie back as the convertible screeches to a halt in front of you. As Alphys loosens her death grip on the door, Undyne looks over her head at you with a grin that’s positively feral. “Get in, losers, we’re going shopping!”

“You guys watch way too many movies,” Artie mutters, but they’re grinning as they plant their metal hands on the side of the car and vault their way into the backseat. 

“Mind the paint, Artemisia, dear,” Toriel cautions as she slides over to make room for you and Artie. “Papyrus gets very distressed whenever there is damage to his vehicle.”

You take the advice to heart, careful as you climb in next to Artie, but when Undyne floors the accelerator and peels out into the street, you find yourself clinging to the side of the car so hard it’s a wonder that you’re not leaving fingerprints.

“So what’s the occasion?” You shout over the force of the wind, though you’re afraid you already know. 

Your mother’s grin confirms it. “We hear that a certain someone has asked you to attend his perm.”

“Prom!” Alphys corrects from the front, turning so that she can peer back at you. “It’s only one of the biggest, most important human coming-of-age rituals!”

“Really?” Toriel frowns thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should start holding one at the school then.”

“No, it’s fine, really,” you protest with a shake of your head. The cooperative school has enough events of its own to worry about. Prom is still very much a human thing, and though you’re looking forward to it, the amount of attention you’ve been getting from the human kids at school over Erik’s invitation makes you more and more inclined to keep the cooperative school well clear of it. Monsters have enough to worry about without the pressures of prom on top of everything. Besides, it’s not like you don’t have dances and concerts enough already. They’re just a lot weirder than what the human kids are used to. And a lot less pressure.

Pressure that just gets worse when you get to the store, and the sales clerk takes one look at you and asked, with a panicked look on her face, “will you be shopping for a dress or a tuxedo today?”

It’s a tough decision. Most days, you know your mind right away, but for some reason, you really struggle with this one. Undyne and Alphys aren’t helping much, with Alphys bringing you increasingly floofier ball gowns, and Undyne insisting on leather pants and a variety of blouses, jackets, and vests.

Finally, as the flustered clerk chases after Undyne, who’s run off with a mannequin while crying out to Alphys that at least the dummy understands her artistic vision, Toriel pulls you aside and kneels in front of you, taking your hands in hers.

“Perhaps,” she says gently, “you should think of what your date will be wearing, and wear whatever he is not?”

You blink in surprise; when she puts it like that, it’s a lot simpler than you’d thought. Relieved, you nod, and throw your arms around her. “Thanks, Mom,” you whisper against her shoulder. 

She laughs, not unkindly, and strokes your hair. “You may be a clever, independent young ambassador,” she said. “But I am pleased to still be of some use.”

“Moooom!” You raise your head and give her ear a teasing swat. “You’re always useful!”

She looks pleased as she rises to her feet and smooths her skirt down with an absent pat. “That is sweet of you to say, my child,” she says, and rests a hand on your head. “Do not be in too much of a hurry to grow up, is all that I ask.”

There’s a crash from deeper in the store, and you wince at the cackle of triumph that reverberates through the walls. “We should probably go rescue that clerk before she has a heart attack.”

“Yes,” Toriel says slowly, with the look on her face that the monsters in the ruins learned very quickly to fear. “That sounds like a very good idea.”

* * *

 

It’s a Mom’s House night, but your laptop is still at the brothers’ house, so you ask to be dropped off there first. Undyne doesn’t bother waiting, peeling off to take Toriel home, knowing that you’re not going to leave without spending a little time with the skeletons first. The walk to the Big House is an easy one, and in a family as big as yours, sometimes you need the time to be alone with your own thoughts. A wistful smile crosses your face as the lock on the door recognizes you and clicks open -- another one of Alphys’ inventions that’s a hybrid of magic and technology and quietly amassing the little scientist a small fortune, most of which is spent on the cosplay store she and Undyne run on Etsy. You know how lucky you are to have a family that understands you like this. It’s knowledge like this that weighs even heavier on you when you’re not completely happy, especially when you can’t figure out  _ why _ .

Your call when you pass through the door is answered by Papyrus’ shout of pleased delight from the kitchen, and you promise to come help as soon as you’ve grabbed your things. He’s working with a new group of students at the school in cooking class, and they’re really close to figuring out how to figuring out a Monster Munchies recipe that makes your heart feel better when it’s hurting, not just your body. As a result, Papyrus has been putting in a lot of extra time at home so that he’s better able to nudge the students into their own discoveries. 

The darkness when you open your door gives you pause, but the ambient light of the outside world pouring through your skylight and windows is enough for you to spot the laptop, and a stubborn flare pushes you forward in defiance of your persistent unease around the dark. You’re old enough that you don’t need to turn on the light just to go five steps across a room and back again. Everything’s fine.

Until hard fingers wrap around your ankle in the dark, tearing a shriek from your throat as you brandish your laptop over your head.

“ **whoa! easy, kid, it’s just me.** ”

Relief pours through you, extinguishing the fires of adrenaline that have sent all your senses to fighting ready, and you sink to your knees as your heart pounds hard enough that you can’t believe it your soul hasn’t torn free already. “Don’t  _ do _ that!” You grab a pillow and lob it at the light switch on the wall, then whap Sans on the shoulder as soon as it’s bright enough to see him in the shadow of your bed. “Why are you lurking in here anyway?”

“ **i’m not lurking** ,” he protests. You raise a brow, and he shrugs. “ **okay, i’m totally lurking. but it wasn’t dark when i came in here, i swear.** ”

Now that you can see him clearly, your brows draw together, and you rest a hand against his skull. It’s clammy, and he's breathing hard. For someone who avoids work as hard as Sans does, that’s a rare thing to see. “What’s wrong?”

“ **i...i need your help. i’ve got a bit of a...situationnnnAAAGH.** ”

As his words dissolve into a strangled yelp, you surge to your knees, taking his shoulders between your hands. “What is it? What’s happening?”

He gives you a pained look and slowly, reluctantly, lifts his shirt.

As you see the mound of black fur beneath his ribcage, you sink back on your heels, and your lips begin to tremble as you clench your mouth closed.

**“don’t,** ” he cautions.

“I’m not,” you say, though your words emerge in a squeak.

“ **it’s not funny,** ” he says.

“I’m not laughing.” Your voice squeaks even higher.

A mew emerges from somewhere deep within Sans’ ribcage. Your eyes meet his, and both of you begin to choke on the repressed giggles. In moments, the barriers break, and you’re laughing so hard you can barely breathe. In time, the laughter subsides, taking much of the tension in your shoulders with it, and even Sans looks better as the last laugh leaves him on a sigh.

“ **okay, okay, it’s kinda funny. now will you help?** ”

“Of course I will,” you say, carefully reaching for the ball of fur curled within Sans’ chest. “What the heck is she doing in there, anyway?”

“ **taking a cat nap?** ”

“Fe-lyin’ around?”

“ **heh. good one.** ”

“Well, she’s going to have to lie somewhere else.”

But that’s easier said than done. Though you’re gentle, Cooper gives a warning growl as your hands touch her. She doesn’t lash out when you carefully try to pull her free, but she does dig in, eliciting an answering screech from Sans as her claws scrape against bone. Steeling yourself, you manage to free one paw, but every time, it takes two hands to get the claws free, and by the time you do, the other three paws have latched on again, to Sans’ increasing discomfort.

After some time, you sit back again, crossing your arms in frustrated thought. “Wow. She’s really in there.”

“ **yeah, i get the point.** ”

“Ha-ha. But seriously. I’m not sure how to get her out without hurting her. Or you.” Crossing your legs, you prop an elbow on your knee so you can rest your chin in your hand as you think. “Have you tried catnip?”

“ **pal, i tried everything. i have shoved so much stuff in there i forget half of what’s rattling around right now.** ”

“Is that why you smell like a fish market?”

“ **i dunno. probably. tuna’s a fish, right?** ”

“Right. You ever hear the one about the tuna and the piano?”

He tilts his head at you. “ **they both have nice scales?** ”

“Yeah. Though you can tuna piano, but you can’t tuna fish.”

“ **nice. ha-ha-haaaAAAAAGH!** ”

“Again?” You lean forward, trying to see what set Cooper off. “I hate to say this, Sans, but we might have to take her -- and you, I guess -- to a vet.”

Though his eternal grin doesn’t change, it dims as he struggles to catch a glimpse of the hidden cat. “ **you don’t think something’s really wrong, do you?** ”

“I don’t know.” Your eyes narrow; Cooper’s being very squirmy in there. “We didn’t really have pets when I was growing up and I nev-AAAAH!”

“ **what?** ” Sans yelps, his hand gripping your arm. “ **what’s happening?** ”

“Well, I’m no vet,” you say, your hand grabbing his as you fight to calm your racing heart. “But I’m pretty sure that a kitten just fell out of her.”

“W h a t ?”

“PAPYRUS!!!” At your panicked shout, Sans shoots you a look of wounded betrayal, and you roll your eyes in return. “Oh, come on. Who’s more nurturing, you, me, or Papyrus?”

He blinks at that, and shrugs. “ **okay, fair point.** ”

“PAPYRUS!!!” you bellow again.

Finally, you hear the thunder of footsteps on the stairs just before Papyrus appears in the doorway, brandishing a spatula. “HUMAN! WHATEVER PLAGUES YOU, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM HERE TO--” He breaks off, his shoulders dropping as his wide eyes take in the sight on your bedroom floor. “AH. WELL, I SUPPOSE THIS MEANS YOU ARE FINALLY WILLING TO INFORM ME OF THE CREATURE THAT HAS BEEN SHARING OUR DOMICILE.”

“ **bro,** ” Sans says in quiet wonder. “ **you knew?** ”

“WELL, OF COURSE I KNEW, BROTHER, YOU’VE SMELLED LIKE FISH FOR WEEKS. EVEN GIVEN THE CONSTANT STATE OF YOUR ROOM, THAT IS CONSIDERABLY ABNORMAL.” Sighing, Papyrus tucks his spatula into the ties of his apron. “I SHALL GO FETCH SOME CLEAN TOWELS. FRISK, PLEASE CALL YOUR MOTHER.”

“ **aw, man, not tori too.** ”

“SHE KNOWS MORE ABOUT THIS SORT OF MAMMAL-Y THING THAN EITHER OF US, AND FRISK IS TOO YOUNG.” Papyrus’ voice drifts from the vicinity of the linen closet down the hall. “UNLESS YOU WOULD RATHER I CALL DR. ALPHYS.”

Which means Undyne tagging along. Sans is incapable of being any paler, yet somehow he manages. “ **no. no, tori’s good.** ”

You’ve already pulled out your phone, and it doesn’t take long to bring your mother up to speed. Toriel hangs up after a few encouraging words, and you sink down next to Sans as you tuck your phone away. “It’s okay,” you tell him, wrapping both of your arms around one of his. “You’re not alone. We’ll make sure nothing happens to Cooper.”

The weight of his head settles against the top of yours, and you hold tighter to him as he flinches, hissing sharply as Cooper shifts again. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t really need to. You’ve never had trouble understanding one another.

* * *

 

The brothers’ house smells more strongly of cinnamon and butterscotch than it usually does, but you attribute that to the armload of towels Toriel brought with her from home. With a quiet sigh, she folds the last one and sets it aside. “There now, little mother,” she says softly. “That is better, is it not?”

Cooper blinks up at her from the nest in Sans’ sock drawer -- it’s not like he was actually using it for socks -- and gives a quiet mew of response. With Papyrus’ help, you managed to wrestle the drawer out of Sans’ dresser and onto the floor, but it was Toriel who finally coaxed Cooper out of Sans and into the little nest of blankets and towels. Maybe it was one mother speaking to another, or maybe it was just that not even Cooper was able to say no to your mother when she insisted on something. Either way, it worked. Four little balls of fluff nestle against Cooper’s side, nearly identical to their mother save for the one with little white socks on his feet. 

“Is that it?” You keep your voice soft, not wanting to disturb her. 

“ **the whole kitten kaboodle?** ” Sans adds, and grunts as you elbow him in the side. You don’t do it very hard, though. He’s almost as exhausted as Cooper; normally, when he leans against you, he’s mostly teasing, but he’s letting you take his full weight, which isn’t insubstantial. 

Toriel gives a quiet laugh in response, but nods. “I believe so.” She turns to Papyrus, who’s staring at the box with his hands clasped beneath his chin, his eyes wide and shining, and gives him a pat on the shoulder. “You did well to call me, dear. Cooper will need some special care for a time. I shall leave you with the list of what she needs, shall I?”

“OH,” Papyrus breathes. “OF COURSE! YOU CAN COUNT ON ME, MRS. KING MA’AM.” Beaming, he points at the smallest kitten, the one with the white paws. “SANS, I THINK WE SHOULD CALL THIS ONE LINUS.”

“ **‘s a good one, bro.** ” Sans murmurs, and sags more deeply onto you as he drops off to sleep. Despite your best efforts to keep him upright, you start to tip sideways under the weight.

“LAZYBONES,” Papyrus says, giving a fond sigh. Rising to his feet, he gently tucks the drawer containing Cooper and her kittens beneath one arm, and tosses Sans over his shoulder with the other. “COME, TINY FELINES! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL EXCAVATE A PROPER PLACE FOR YOU SANS’ ROOM.” Hoisting Sans more securely in place, he nods respectfully toward Toriel. “THANK YOU FOR THE ASSISTANCE, MRS. KING.”

“You are most welcome, dear,” Toriel says, bringing a blush to Papyrus’ face. Though he tries to seem tough, he’s still charmed by Toriel’s motherly endearments, even now. He’s never talked about his youth, and you’ve never asked, but sometimes you wonder if Toriel is the first one who’s ever spoken to him like that.

Clearing his throat, he turns his attention to you. “GOOD NIGHT, HUMAN.” But he pauses before leaving, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I KNOW IT IS NOT YOUR NIGHT TO STAY HERE, BUT YOU DO NOT NEED TO LEAVE.”

It feels a little like fighting your way through deep snow, but you manage to haul yourself back to your feet. It seems like an eternity since you came in here to get your laptop, and now that the excitement is over, the hour is catching up to you.

“Thanks, Papyrus.” Stifling a yawn, you shove your desk chair toward him and climb up on it so that you’re close enough to kiss his cheek without requiring him to stoop. “But you’ve got enough small things to take care of right now. I’ll come by and see how you and the kittens are doing after my embassy shift tomorrow, okay?”

He brightens a little at that. “YES, THAT DOES SEEM TO BE A PURRFECT PLAN. NYEH-HEH-HEH.” 

Looking inordinately pleased with himself as Toriel laughs at his joke, he heads out the door toward Sans’ room. Only then do you let out a long, loud sigh. 

Toriel laughs again, and her soft hand brushes over your hair in sympathy. “My poor small one. Today has been a long day for you, too, has it not?”

Turning wide eyes toward her, you take the hand she offers. Her strength and support is enough to guide your weary feet toward the door; it helps that you know she’ll carry you without a thought if you falter. Belatedly, you remember to grab your laptop on the way past. There’s no way you’re going to get any work done now, but you’re still going to need it for work tomorrow. 

“Mom? When do you start knowing stuff?”

She glances at you with warm amusement. “What sort of stuff, dear one?”

“You know. All this adult stuff.”

Laughing, she shakes her head as she tows you down the stairs. “Ah, Frisk. Sweet child. I have lived a very long time, and I still do not know all of the ‘stuff.’” Pausing at the door, she leans down and nuzzles you. “I figure it out one day at a time, my child. As you do.”

“That sucks, Mom.”

“Indeed it does. But that is the way of the world.”

You make it about halfway up the hill to the Big House before your flagging footsteps overwhelm Toriel’s motherly instincts and she scoops you into her arms. You’re a lot taller than you used to be, but Toriel is a very big monster; you still fit quite comfortably on her hip. You drift in a pleasant state of half-dreaming, your chin resting against her shoulder, until she dumps you into bed.

But before you can drop off completely, the buzzing of your phone pulls you back into waking. Blinking wearily, you fumble for it on your nightstand and try to focus on the screen.

> **hey squirt. sorry for spooking you today. wanted to say thanks.**

You yawn, rubbing your eyes, and type a message back.

> Even if I let the cat out of the bag?

It isn’t long at all before the response comes back, and it makes you smile.

> **quit poaching all the good lines.**
> 
> **…**
> 
> **yes.**
> 
> **didn’t mean to be catty.**

Rolling over, you curl around the glowing screen, fighting the pull of sleep as you tap out a response with your lazy fingers, silently thanking Alphys for her improvements to the autocorrect on your phone.

> Any time, big bro. I got your back. And your front. And all relevant vectors.

This time, the response is even faster.

> **thanks.**
> 
> **…**
> 
> **nerd.**

With a quiet laugh, you burrow deeper beneath your blanket.

> I learned it from the best.
> 
> Night.
> 
> <3

You’re almost asleep before the last response comes in.

> **…**
> 
> **you too, kiddo.**
> 
> **all the threes.**

* * *

After the birth of the kittens, Sans seeks you out for help with alarming regularity. The babies seem to find him just as comforting a hiding space as their mother does, and they seem determined to shower him in gifts as thanks. But it isn’t until you pull a live sea star out from where it’s wedged in his pelvis that something begins to nag at you.

“Sans?” You ask, slowly fitting the pieces of an idea together as you stir salt into a pitcher of water. “Where are they getting all these things?”

“ **your guess is as good as mine,** ” he answers, slumping against the table. The act results in an aggrieved ‘mew’ from the vicinity of his pocket. Straightening again, he carefully pulls Calibri out of it and strokes the kitten between the ears with a gentle finger until the little cat settles into his palm with a tiny, contented purr. 

You drop the sea star into the salt water, and take a seat next to him. “It’s just… Have you been taking shortcuts while the kittens are along for the ride?”

The indulgent expression on his face slips, and he stares down at the kitten cupped in his hand. “ **...oh. oh, man.** ”

“Welp,” you say, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Look on the bright side. Maybe these cats will be able to catch those determined mice people keep complaining to the Embassy about.”

Your only answer is his groan, and the hollow thunk of his head as it hits the table. Softly, you pat his head, and pretend not to notice that the kitten is gone from his hand.

* * *

 

Lightning is such a strange thing, sometimes. You know you’re supposed to find it intimidating, or scary, at least that’s what all the movies tell you. But you don’t mind it. It’s the dark that scares you. Or, at least, the fear that beneath the cover of the dark, everything else has vanished. But the lightning eases that fear. Every time it flashes, it reminds you that the world is still out there, still turning. If you call for help, eventually, somebody will come.

Shivering, you huddle deeper into the shelter of the doorway to the crypt. You didn’t intent to stop here, but the rain caught you by surprise, and the wind still gusts it toward you. Your skin is damp, covered in gooseflesh, and more rain still drips from the ornate decoration above you, but you’re out of the worst of the storm, and graveyards have never scared you. Some of your best friends are ghosts. 

You’re not alone, either. Sniffling, you shove your wet hair out of your face, and tuck the little kitten you’re holding more securely beneath your chin. Linus’ purrs get louder in response, and he hooks his claws into the strap of your dress and licks some of the rain from your chin. Despite your mood, that makes you smile. You’re not sure how he found you, but you’re glad he did. Before long, Calibri, Lucida, and Joker are climbing up the rain-soaked fabric of your dress, settling in sheltered places and making little pools of heat to fight off the chill. With all of the kittens here, you shouldn’t be surprised when Cooper flows out of the dark, shadow against shadow, and curls around the small of your back, her purrs a deep counterpoint to the tiny sounds of her children. She butts her head impatiently against your free hand, and you indulge her with a scratch behind the ears, grateful for the gift of her affection, which is precious in its rarity.

The lightning flashes again, throwing a new shape into silhouette against the pale gravestones behind it. But it’s a familiar, friend-shaped shadow. Emotions snarl within you, and you set Linus carefully into the pooled fabric in your lap so that you can properly scrub at your eyes. 

“ **...frisk. buddy. what’s going on, pal?”**

Your nose is numb, and you sniff as it drips a little. “It’s raining.”

“ **...yeah. i can see that. it’s raining cats and… well, cats.** ” He gestures at the furry puddles of darkness around you. “ **but you like the rain. Not gonna lie, you’re freaking me out a bit here, bucko.** ”

Lightning flashes again, and the thunder is so close, it rattles the stone beneath you. You turn your wet face up to the sky, listening to the whisper of the drops falling around the graves. “It was raining like this the night my parents went away.”

His sharp intake of breath is counterpoint to the next flash of lightning, and it throws the expression on his face into sharp, raw relief. You wince inwardly and give your head a small shake, which sends the last remnants of Undyne’s careful work on your hair tumbling around your face in a mass of sodden curls. “No, it’s not like that. I’m not going to do anything, I swear. I’m just…” You sink your fingers into Cooper’s soft fur, closing your eyes as you let the softness play around your fingers. “I just needed to think.”

“ **you’ve been sitting here alone in a graveyard so you can think?** ” 

“No,” you say quietly, looking down at the cats. “I’m sitting here alone in a graveyard because I was trying to walk home and it started raining and I didn’t want to wreck my dress or get hit by lightning and I was cold.” Taking a shuddering breath, you try to slow the spill of words that threatens to overwhelm you. “Once I found this place,  _ then _ I decided to have a think.”

“ **you. the kid who’s walked two kingdoms and seven continents. you got lost?** ” You nod, and he takes a step closer. “ **then frisk. buddy. pal.** ” Lightning flashes, revealing the expressionless hollows of his eyes. “W h y   d i d n ‘ t   y o u   c a l l ?”

In answer, you pull out your phone. As you tilt it, water from it’s earlier trip into a puddle streams out of it. Sniffing again, you stow it back where it was as Sans blinks in bewilderment. “I’m having a bad night,” you say.

“ **yeah. i can see that.** ” Moving slowly, as though afraid of startling you, Sans sinks down next to you. Cooper obligingly shifts over to allow him space, absently turning her head to lick some of the rain off your arm as she does so. This close, the torn strap on your dress is more apparent, and something dark creeps over Sans’ expression as he gets a good look at the state of you. He lifts his hand, sweeping it over your head with the faintest flare of blue, and the steady trickle of cold water down your back immediately stops. It’s still pouring, but a few feet above the crypt, the rain just stops. It’s instantly warmer, and you reach up to wring some of the water in your hair, to the immense displeasure of the kitten immediately beneath it. With a quiet hiss, Joker shakes herself off and snuggles up in the small of your back, between you and her mother.

“ **kiddo, please,** ” he says, his voice as gentle as it ever gets as he carefully tucks one of your wayward curls behind your ear. “ **alphys said that prom thing ended hours ago, and your parents are about to re-form the royal guard to look for you. what happened?** ” He reaches for you, but his hand stops just short of your torn strap, and his voice drops into a register you almost never hear from him. “ **did that kid--** ”

“What?” Comprehension dawns, and you shake your head. The kittens complain vociferously as the movement shakes droplets from your hair. “No, no, that’s where I got stuck on a tree.” With a quiet groan, he scrubs his face with his hands, and you give an apologetic shrug. “It was dark. And rainy.”

“ **well that’s precipitous.** ” He jams his hands into the pockets of his jacket and holds one side open to you in silent invitation. Giving another quiet sniff, you nod and lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. It’s made a lot easier by the fact that he’s sitting one stair higher than you, and you turn your face into him as he wraps his arm around you. Between him, and the cats, and the fleece of his jacket, you finally stop shivering. “ **anything else you want to tell me?** ”

“I’m still trying to figure it all out,” you admit. For a while afterward, the only sound is your quiet breathing, underscored by the patter of the rain, but there’s no discomfort in the silence. Just the deep well of his patience, content to shield you from the damp and the cold as you pull your scattered thoughts together. “I liked the dancing. And the terrible food. And talking to human kids my age. I had  _ fun _ tonight.”

“ **...but?** ”

“...but after. I figured out that I didn’t want the same thing Erik did. And he got...frustrated.” You can feel the tension coiling through your companion, and you cling tighter to him. “He didn’t do anything. He didn’t try to convince me to do anything. But he… he said some stuff.”

“ **oh, he is going to have a BAD time,** ” Sans growls.

“Please don’t.” Your fingers curl into the knit of his sweater. “I thought that when the time came, I’d want the same thing he did. I really did. I don’t know why I didn’t. It’s not him. I  _ like _ him. It’s.. it’s me. And I’m scared…” Your throat tightens, cutting off the flow of your words.

“ **what?** ” Sans prompts gently. “ **i promise, kid, whatever it is, it’ll stay between us and the cats if that’s what you want.** ”

You raise your head, seeking comfort in the compassion that illuminates the shadows of his eyes. “I’m scared that… that with everything that happened.” Your breath catches, and you bite your lip, trying to stop it from trembling. “Sans, am I broken?”

“ **what?** ” His eyes widen, and his unchanging grin grows tense as he frees the hand still in his pocket to rest against your cheek. “ **kiddo, you and me may be messed up in a lot of ways, but that sure as heck ain’t one of ‘em. it’s okay if you don’t feel that way about someone you like, frisk. that doesn’t mean you’re broken.** ”

“It doesn’t?” you whisper. 

“ **nope. and maybe someday someone might come along that does give you those feelings. or maybe you never have ‘em. whatever happens, though, you don’t ever have to apologize for what you do or don’t feel.** ” An edge creeps into his grin, and he taps his finger against your nose. “ **if anyone ever tries to make you feel bad about that, you just send ‘em to me for a friendly chat and i’ll straighten ‘em right out.** ”

Your breath leaves you in a soft whimper, and you can’t meet his gaze any more. You settle your head beneath his chin, clinging even tighter to him. “But what if I never find anyone who loves me? I don’t want to end up all alone.”

“ **oh, kid.** ” There’s a world of unspoken understanding in the rawness of those two words. Sans knows, in ways few other people in your life do, just how terrifying the thought of  _ alone _ can be. When your breath hitches again, he rests his hand against your head, his fingers tangling in your wet hair. Your heart pounds so hard that you have to glance down to make sure your soul is still where it’s supposed to be, but he just holds you tighter in response, drawing you deeper into the shelter and warmth of him. “ **you can love someone without feeling that stuff, buddy, and if whoever loves you isn’t cool with that, then they don’t deserve you. but i can tell you this -- you are never, ever going to have to worry about being alone, frisk. you can’t swing a cat in this town without hitting *somebody* who loves you.** ” Cooper lets out a low growl, and Sans gives her a consoling pat. “ **relax, coop, i was being metaphorical.** ”

You’re shaking, but you can feel the seeds of hope beginning to sprout within you, their delicate tendrils curling gently around your heart. “You mean… I can love somebody like Dad loves Mom even if I never want the same stuff that Erik does?”

“ **you got it, kiddo.** ”

As those four words sink into those seeds in your heart, they erupt into a tangle of emotion; hope, relief, and exhaustion course through you, snarling together and expanding within you until you can feel the force of it pushing its way up your throat, but even then, the feelings are so  _ big _ that you have no idea how they’re going to emerge until a laugh bursts out of you, muffled against Sans’ sweater. Once it begins, you can’t stop it, and the laughter builds until your tears have made a damp spot in the cable knit. At some point, you become aware that both of Sans’ arms are around you and the cats are gone, and the laughing trails off into a breathless wheeze.

“ **y’know, it’s a heck of a night,** ” Sans says against the top of your head. “ **rain is falling. lightning’s flashing. you’re all dressed up fancy. on nights like this, kids like you…** ” He tightens his hold on you and the hair on your arms begins to prickle. Long familiar with the warning, your hold tight and bury your head against him just before you feel a yank deep behind your sternum. A blast of chill washes over your skin, dark sinking into you as voices whisper from the void--

And you open your eyes to heat and warmth and light as you sink back into the cushions of a familiar booth. Across the room, Shyren’s sister gives a screech that fills the room with shadowy welcome before she disappears into the manager’s office in search of her sister.

“...should be singing karaoke?” You raise a brow at Sans.

He reclines against the cushions, folding his hands behind his head. “ **‘it’s always a good time for karaoke. ‘sides, you know shy likes it when people dress up.** ”

“I’m soaked,” you point out, but he just shrugs.

“ **you’ll dry. you class up the place. everybody wins.** ”

You can’t stop the smile creeping across your face, and he knows it. It’s hard to maintain a funk when you’re surrounded by warmth, and light, and laughter. The music drowns out any hint of rain and thunder, and by the time the Dogs goad Sans into getting up to sing “Bang The Drum All Day,” with them, you’ve been firmly ensconced in the booth with a plate of fries, a mug of cocoa, and Shyren’s sister, who is diligently repairing the strap on your dress with the sewing kit usually reserved for emergency repairs to Shyren’s stage costumes. Lemon Bread finishes her work about the same time Sans finishes the song, stretching the thread taut with a flex of her huge arm so that she can shear it off with her teeth.

“Thank you,” you tell her, pointedly not hugging her. Shaking in pleasure, Lemon Bread  glides out of the booth on a trail of slime. 

You’re doing your best to pat up the slime trail with napkins when Sans sidles back in beside you, and you applaud him quietly as Aaron, after an awkward not-hug with Lemon Bread, begins belting out the Ghostbusters theme.

“That was pretty sharp,” you tell him.

Flashing you a warm grin, he steals one of your fries. “ **really? you don’t think it fell a little flat?** ”

“I dunno,” you muse. “Music is really Shyren’s forte, not mine.”

Snorting, he prods you in the ribs. “ **keep that up and you’re asking for treble.** ”

“Don’t you use that tone with me.”

“ **is that how you’re gonna conduct this conversation?** ”

Your eyes go wide. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to harmony one.”

He stares at you for a moment, and you almost manage to keep your lip from quivering. But he breaks first, and your laughter follows on the heels of his, bearing much of your tension with it. He sags against you as the laughter fades, and pats your hand. “ **nice. very clef-er. now stop stalling and pick your song.** ”

You glance up at front of the room -- Woshua is helpfully setting the mood for Aaron’s song by flooding the stage with mist -- and rest your chin on your hand with a quiet sigh. “I don’t know, Sans. I’m not really sure I’m in tune with it tonight.”

“ **come on, kiddo. let’s end this night on a high note.** ” He digs into his jacket and pulls out a small flask, handing it over to you. “ **you just need to forte-fy yourself.** ” 

“I already used that one,” you say, eyeing the flask suspiciously. “And Mom would kill me.”

“ **come on, kiddo, i may be fuzzy on the time signature but i know you’re underage. there’s nothing in here that any mom-ster would object to.** ” He pokes you again. “ **and you can re-use ‘em if you change up the joke.** ”

You take the flask from him, using your other hand to shove your hair out of your face. “I don’t know, you have a habit of tambourine with the rules.”

He raises a brow at you. “ **you calling me a lyre?** ” 

Laughing, you shake your head and take a swig from the flask. Seconds later, you’re doubled over, coughing, as a shot of spicy ketchup sears its way down your throat. Sans helpfully thumps you on the back until you can breathe again, and you shove the flask back at him. But as much as the vinegar is burning your nose as you breathe, you have to admit that a pleasant, tingling warmth is spreading through your rain-chilled bones. He wasn’t lying -- there’s nothing in the ketchup that can’t be found in any other Mom-approved monster food -- but some of the more magical effects of monster food can vary depending on the boss level of the monster preparing it, and you have your suspicions about the source of Sans’ secret stash. 

His wink confirms your suspicions as the flask vanishes back into his jacket. “ **right. now get up there, your excellency.** ”

You roll your eyes with a snort and clamber over him to get out of the booth without dragging your dress through the drying slime. He’s got his phone out before you even hit the stage, and you barely hit the halfway mark in “All By Myself” before your family starts showing up in the booth. By this point, you’re not alone on stage any more; your commitment to the lyrics moved Shyren so much that she emerges from her office to join you so that you won’t be lonely. You finish your song with your arm around the little fish, and Undyne and Mettaton are both on the table, cheering. Overwhelmed by the attention, Shyren wiggles out from beneath your arm and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before darting back to the safety of her office.

Your mother meets you halfway to the table, and you practically topple into her arms in your haste to get there. She draws you close, nuzzling against your hair as you press your face against her, hiding in the soft scents of cinnamon and clover that cling to her. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know, my child,” she assures you, all warmth and welcome as the flames of her magic wash over you and banish the last of the damp. “I have spoken with Sans. I am not cross with you. And I am no longer feeling the need to set anyone on fire.” She frowns. “Though I shall be having a good look at the school curricula in the morning. I had not realized there were such serious gaps in humans’ basic knowledge of these things.”

Your fingers brush lightly over her silky ear, feeling the thrum of her heart beneath your cheek. “I love you, Mom.”

With a gentle laugh, Toriel cups your face between her fuzzy hands, and touches her nose to yours. “My precious child,” she sighs. “I love you so very, very much.” She gazes at you, her brown eyes warm with love and concern, and her face turns wistful as she brushes a strand of hair from your face. “I know you struggle at times, small one, but you know you may always come to me…” She glances over your shoulder, and you follow her gaze to see that Asgore is watching you from where he’s crammed into the booth next to Undyne and Alphys. Alphys murmurs quietly to herself as she pokes through the pieces of your ruined phone on the table in front of her, occasionally passing one of the soaked components to Asgore to dry out with his magic. “...or your father. Your family does not always understand what it is to grow up a human child, but we will always support you through it.”

“I know, Mom.” Slipping your arm through hers, you walk with her back to the booth where your family waits. “Sometimes things just take me by surprise. But I promise, I’ll do my best.”

“You never do anything less,” Toriel says. Smiling proudly, she runs a hand over your hair before squeezing into the booth next to Sans.

It’s getting a little crowded, so you settle for perching on the edge of the table on your Dad’s side of the booth, careful not to sit on any of the phone parts. “Will it live?” you ask Alphys.

“I th-think so?” She frowns, prodding at a glowing circuit. “I think I’ve m-managed to salvage at least two of your dimensional boxes, anyway. They’re really full. What’ve you got in there?”

“Stuff,” you say.

“Mmm.” Distracted, she twists a tiny screwdriver into the side of it. “Sans, do you have a quantum transducer on you?”

“ **hmm.** ” Reaching into his jacket, Sans produces a yo-yo, some string, and a rubber chicken before finally drawing out a small knot of wires and circuitry. “ **looks like i do. and ‘cause it’s a special night, it’ll only cost you 5000G.** ”

“Uh--”

“SANS, YOU MISERLY CAD!” The unexpected shout is followed by Papyrus, who climbs over the back of the booth to wedge himself between Sans and Undyne. “WHAT MANNER OF CHICANERY ARE YOU UP TO NOW?” He plucks the device from Sans’s hand and plops it down in front of Alphys. “IT IS FORTUNATE THAT I ARRIVED IN TIME TO PREVENT YOU FROM SWINDLING POOR ALPHYS. HONESTLY, WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITHOUT ME?”

“ **make a profit?** ” Sans winks at you. “ **then i’d have to do all kind of awful stuff. like tax returns. thanks for saving me, bro. you’re the coolest.** ”

Fighting back laughter, you reach out and lift the glasses from Alphys’ face. She looks up at you, blinking in startled bewilderment as you slip the corsage off your wrist and wind the elastic wristband around the arm of Alphys’s glasses. Satisfied that it will stay put, you return the glasses to her head, and the golden rose shines above her ear in perfect compliment to her scales.

“Oh, yeah, that’s super-cute.” Undyne lifts the lazy arm she has draped around Alphys’ shoulders to turn the little scientist’s face for a better view. Grinning, she drops a kiss onto the blushing saurian’s upturned nose before beaming over her head at you. “Nice choice, punk. Now we need to show it off.”

Without waiting for a response, she hoists Alphys under an arm and climbs up on the table. Alphys lets out a squeak, carefully dropping the part she’s working on into the pile just before Undyne leaps across it. “C’mon, Toriel,” Undyne calls. “GIRL BONDING TIME.”

“Oh!” Toriel clasps her hands beneath her chin. “Marvellous! I shall be right there.”

The opening bars of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” fills the room, accompanied by a roar and a series of disturbed shrieks from the management as Toriel helpfully adds her own pyrotechnics to the stage, and your father’s deep chuckle in response brings a grin to your own face. You scoot over enough to change your perch to his knee, and heave a contented breath as his strong arms fold about you.

“No more unexpected adventures tonight, Pumpkin?” he asks quietly.

“None planned,” you answer. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Whatever for?” 

Your finger traces over one of the bright flowers on his silk shirt. “For making you worry.” 

“BUT FRISK,” Papyrus interjects, breaking off his scolding session, which elicits a sigh of relief from Sans. “IT IS THE KING’S JOB TO WORRY ABOUT YOU. APOLOGIZING WOULD BE FOOLISH! SINCE YOU ARE HELPING ASGORE PERFORM HIS ROYAL DUTY BY GIVING HIM SOMETHING TO WORRY OVER, HE SHOULD BE THANKING YOU!”

“I didn’t think about it that way,” you say, and the smile that steals across your face is genuine. “Thanks, Papyrus. That was really smart.“ 

“NATURALLY!” Papyrus reaches over to pat your hand. “YOU CANNOT BE CLEVER AT EVERY MOMENT, FRISK. BUT THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL ALWAYS BE ON HAND TO BE CLEVER FOR YOU WHEN YOUR CLEVERNESS NEEDS A BREAK.”

“ **awww, that’s real nice, bro. can you cover my breaks, too?** ”

Papyrus turns a glare on his brother. “SANS! DON’T BE RIDICULOUS! YOU MUST ACTUALLY DO WORK BEFORE YOU GET A BREAK FROM IT!”

Sans settles in for the new lecture, his arms folded on the table and his chin resting on them, and winks at you. You manage to muffle your laugh against your father’s shirt, shaking your head fondly at the skeletons.

“Feeling better?” Asgore whispers.

You nod, tucking your head beneath his chin. “Mmm-hmm.” 

“Good.” His whiskers brush against the top of your head as he gazes forlornly at the empty cup in front of him. “Oh dear. Undyne is about to reach the “throwing things” part of this song. I suppose it will be a while before anyone is free to bring more tea.”

“I’ll get it,” you say, forestalling his protests with an upraised finger as you slip out of his hug. It’s easier for you to slip through the gathering crowd than it is for him, and it may be a little thing, but helping people always cheers you up, and you’re feeling much better by the time you’ve got the cup of steaming tea in your hand.

What you’re not expecting is the tear-stained face that greets you when you turn around again, and you almost drop the tea in your surprise. “Amrita, hi,” you tell her, glancing behind her, but she’s here alone. It’s unusual in this place -- the karaoke bar welcomes humans, but they’re still nervous enough around monsters that they tend to travel in packs. “What are you doing here?”

Her eyes widen in disbelief. “Looking for  _ you! _ ” She gestures at you, the movement tight with exasperation. “You disappeared, and when Erik we heard what happened… I’ve been texting you for  _ hours _ and then the news starts talking about the Ambassador’s surprise appearance at this karaoke place, and…” She trails off, biting her lip as she looks you over, her gaze lingering on your torn strap. “Frisk, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Smiling, you rest a hand against her arm. “I’m fine. I had some stuff to work out, but I got there eventually. I’m sorry I worried you.” You wave your free hand toward the table. “My phone got wet and it’s in a million pieces right now.”

Amrita doesn’t return your smile or follow your gesture. She doesn’t seem to be able to do anything but stare at the floor. “I’m so sorry. When I set you up with Erik…” She wraps her arms around herself, and to your dismay, you can see tears welling in her eyes. “I didn’t want this.”

“Amrita,” you ask, gently. You don’t want to upset her any more, but now you really need to know. “Why  _ did _ you set me up with Erik?”

“Ugh, you really are frustrating sometimes, you know that?” She finally looks up at you, her eyes brimming. “My parents have to move all the time, and every time, I get bounced to new schools with them. I’m used to people giving the new girl hell, but _ you _ \--”

You tilt your head, and your curls fall across your eyes again. Glowering at them, you shove them back. “What did I do?”

“You made me feel welcome!” She raises her hand to scrub the tears from her eyes in a single, sharp motion. “Nobody’s ever gone out of their way like you did to make the school feel like home, and I just.. I just wanted you to be  _ happy _ !”

Quietly, you set the mug of tea down on the counter and step forward to wrap your arms around your human friend. For a moment, she stiffens in shock, and then she’s clinging to you fiercely, shaking as she tries not to cry. It’s comforting, in a way, to know that you’re not the only human who struggles to make sense of feelings that get too big. Maybe it’s not just you. Maybe that’s just part of growing up human. 

“I am happy,” you tell her.

She pulls back, disbelief written plain on her face. “But you--” she gestures at your dress. “He--”

“ _ That _ was a tree I ran into,” you say. “He said some stuff he shouldn’t. He was hurt and confused. So was I. But now I’m not, and I’m having a fun night with my family in a pretty dress, and my friend is here.” Beaming, you hold out your hand. “And I’m going to introduce her to my family, and we’re going to sing terrible karaoke for the rest of the night.”

Amrita looks down at your hand, staring as though she’s never seen it before, and looks back up at you, her brows drawn together. “You want me to hang out with your family?”

“And my friends,” you say, picking up the tea again. “‘Cause you’re one of ‘em.”

Her eyes are suspiciously damp again, but she reaches out and wraps her fingers around yours. 

Before you can push your way back through the crowd toward your booth, Mettaton emerges from Shyren’s office, takes one look at your hair, and rolls his eyes, throwing his hands up in disgust. “All right, darling, let’s not panic. I can take care of this mess.” Amrita flinches away, her hand tightening on yours, but the wariness on her face is replaced with surprise as the most famous film star in the world digs his hands into your hair, tutting reproachfully over the mess you’ve made. “Can you believe this?” he says to Amrita, sighing over your head. “I need a second opinion-- erm…”

“Amrita,” you supply helpfully.

“--Amrita, darling.” He twists the curls around his finger. “Do we try to wrestle it all back up, or work with the curls we’ve got now?”

By the time you finally make it back to the booth, the tea is cold and Mettaton and Amrita are involved in a spirited discussion about Amrita’s aunties’ tips for managing a lot of uncooperative hair. Sheepishly, you hand the tea over to Asgore, but he smiles in silent understanding, and a surreptitious application of fire magic soon has the tea steaming again. You do have a moment of concern as Amrita realizes the full extent of your family surrounding her, only some of whom she knows from the school, but before she can hesitate too long, Undyne shouts her way into the conversation about your hair, and the three of them are off again. And as you sit there, patiently enduring the yanking on your hair as you watch Sans and Toriel hamming their way through “I Get a Kick Out of You,” the last vestiges of the chill in your heart are washed away on a tide of warmth and affection.

* * *

 

The journey home is something of a blur of weariness and contentment, and though Mettaton and Asgore part ways at the steps to the Big House, promising to see Amrita home safely, every room the rest of your friends and family have at the Big House is occupied tonight. Though you’ve long since said goodbye to them, and been thoroughly fussed over by your mother as she tucked you into bed, despite your reassurances that you’re perfectly fine, you can still feel the weight of them. The House never feels empty, but tonight it feels particularly contented. It always seems happier when it’s full.

Shifting, you sigh, and pick up your newly-repaired phone from the table beside your bed. It opens to the conversation you were having with Artie just after settling down for the night, and you smile at their increasingly emphatic responses before you promised to give them the whole story at school tomorrow. They’ve long since stopped responding, probably asleep, as you should be. Slowly, you run a finger over the screen, and then open a new message.

> I need you.

Then, you put the phone down and wait, fairly certain that he won’t keep you waiting long. He could just walk over from wherever his room has ended up, but you’re not surprised in the least when his voice drifts from the shadows by the door instead.

“ **what’s up, kiddo?** ”

You prop yourself up against your pillows, scooting over as Cooper leaps onto your bed from the darkness, and wince a little as the pricking of tiny claws heralds Linus’s arrival as he climbs up your pyjamas. You carefully detach him and set him on your shoulder, where he nestles, purring, into your tangle of hair.

“I just realized that once everyone else started showing up, I never really got a chance to say thank you.”

Sans sits on the edge of your bed, one leg dangling over the side, and reaches out to ruffle your hair. “ **no thanks needed, buddy. comes with being part of the family. kind of a package deal.** ”

“Still,” you say, “it meant a lot. That you came and found me.”

He leans back on his hands as he grins at you. “ **can’t quite take all the credit for that one,** ” he says.

You glance down at the purring cat nestled against your legs, and scratch gently between her ears. “They’ve been getting to know the shortcuts pretty well, huh?”

“ **yup. and coop’s a funny cat. she’s a lot like you and me, when you think about it.** ” When you cast him a questioning glance, he just winks at you. “ **i’m thinking she’s been on her own so long, she knows a good thing when she finds it, and she’s pretty stubborn about making sure that good thing stays together** .”

A smile crosses your face, and you shift Linus to his mother’s side. “I guess that does sound kinda familiar.”

Hooking your tangled hair behind your ear, you glance up at him with a question in your eyes, and he’s known you long enough that he doesn’t need you to say it aloud. His grin just widens, and he opens his arms, and you fall into them, basking in the comfort of the hug. “Thank you,” you say again, mumbling into the fluff of his hood.

“ **you’re gonna be just fine, kid,** ” he reassures you gently. “ **there’s a big, weird world to figure out, and you’ve got a head full of snarly thoughts to sort through--** ” he taps your head with the tip of a finger. “ **\--but there’s more than enough stubbornness beneath this roof to help you figure it all out.** ”

The purring in the room is louder now, and you can feel more pools of warmth settling around you, and you laugh against his shoulder as he chuckles in return. You’re pretty sure you’ll be able to sleep now. He’s right. As different as the members of your family are, they’re all devoted to making the world better in their own way, and their differences mean that whatever the problems you run into, there’s usually someone around with the skills to help you sort it out. And if you can see  _ that _ as a good thing, you can start to accept that being different from most of the kids at school isn’t such a bad thing for you, either. It doesn’t mean you can’t be friends. It doesn’t mean you can't love them. It just means that your definition of love gets a lot broader than people tend to think when they hear the word.

And the thought that you might someday find someone who feels the same way… fills you with determination.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
